LEXIE
WEEKEND
I was sitting on my bed reading Mia's book when I heard a knock on my door.
I had made it through forty pages and was deeply invested in a woman making questionable decisions in a coastal town, which felt personally relatable on several levels. I put it face down on the blanket and called out.
Mia opened the door and leaned against the frame with her jacket already on and her bag over her shoulder and the particular energy of someone who had already decided how the next few hours were going to go. "Get your jacket," she said.
I looked at her. "Where are we going?"
"Shopping," she said. "You need clothes."
"I have clothes," I said.
She looked at me with the patient expression of someone choosing not to argue with a statement that didn't deserve engagement.
"Lexie. Y
