It was like the beach shook something loose in her. Not that there was anything special about it, qua beach. Nothing had happened while she was staying there. She had a small, just serviceable private cabin isolated atop a little bluff, with a gangway of rickety-looking, minimally-railed stairs that led down to the sand. No wifi, practically no cell. From the open porch you could see directly over to the Point. The view was moving to her somehow. In the morning especially, when the early light caught it, that pale shimmer off the limestone glowing in the uncertain distance. Some feeling of longing in it. She’d take her coffee out and just stare, entranced, and let her mind go soft, till the glow dissolved into day and the coffee more often than not had gone cold. Kerry didn’t miss the caffeine. She’d never been so relaxed in her life.

She overstayed, she was so relaxed. It wasn’t really even a decision. The planned long weekend off melted into week, then back again into weekend. She hadn’t even asked to extend. Hadn’t really even thought of it. No one else showed to the cabin, and there wasn’t a peep out of the owners. By the time she had her first thought about anyone back home it was too late to bother messaging; and she wasn’t about to drive to town for service just to field an inbox full of “where are you”s. People were predictably mad at her. It was all just so stupid. Joan made her eat shit, obviously, she had go listen to a fucking HR lecture about Unapproved Absences; and then Jake was all, “‘I just felt like staying on’ isn’t an explanation, Kerry,” in that tone he took. He could go fuck himself to the moon. Nobody to see it from her side, of course. As for any of her so-called office friends, the only ones who even noticed her being gone were the ones she owed work to.

So she left. Was leaving, right now. Just chucked it all. Fuck it, she thought, who needs the angst? Which was exactly the point. A week without the fucking angst and that was all it took, all the perspective she needed on her life. She felt like she herself was in that morning gleam off the Point. She felt the stay there had wrung her out and swept her clean, clarified her, heart and mind.

The train slowed and its motion changed, swaying through the approaches to the city. Kerry felt a familiar excitement well up in her for the moment of transition, but now it was fraught in a way it had never been before. Was she being impulsive? She thought of what her mom would say when she found out. She clutched her bag to her chest and took out her little sheaf of Roommate Wanted printouts. Not to read, just to keep in hand. A talisman. She rolled them up and held onto them while the train rolled towards its underground precinct and she stared up through the window and watched the city loom.

They met at a Starbucks a couple blocks from the station. Before she went out onto the street Kerry found a bathroom to duck into, her and her sole suitcase. An impulse made her fish into the pocket for her red scrunchie. For some reason she’d worn it the whole time at the beach, and now it seemed lucky to her. She put her hair up and checked it in the mirror. Another talisman.

There was a breeze; the air felt chilly on her neck. A bright sun came and went between the skyscrapers. It was one of those days you could tell fall was coming.

The Starbucks was a hole in the wall with maybe four tables, and the girl who had to be Celia lit up when Kerry walked in. For a second Kerry wondered, weirdly, whether they knew each other. Then she thought, oh right, the suitcase. Dead giveaway. Celia was a pouty-lipped, almost too pretty blonde and Kerry’s first reaction was young. Like, way younger than she would’ve expected. The cup in front of her had a smear of lipstick on it that somehow pierced Kerry’s heart. She muscled her bag through the narrow space between tables and planted it beside the open chair. Celia hadn’t risen, and was staring up at her with a slightly dazed expression. Her smile was big and open and welcoming. Kerry hesitated a second and then, bending forward a little awkwardly, offered Celia her hand.

She kind of floated down to her seat, and then they were face to face, hands still joined, just smiling a little dumbstruck at each other. It occurred to Kerry she should probably say something. Finally she blurted out, “You’re so pretty!” Like it was this big revelation. Instantly she felt her face go red. But it was literally the only thing she could come up with to say.

Celia laughed, and blushed in her turn. “Oh my god, I was thinking exactly the same thing!” She took her hand out of Kerry’s and brought it back to her latte. “You walked in and I was like, holy shit, this is who wants to room with me? Might want to room with me? This hottie? I got all tongue-tied.” She reached back to pat Kerry’s hand, still on the table. “I mean, not in a gay way, I mean I’m not hitting on you or anything,” and then for a moment there was a flutter of both girls exchanging assurances of their entire straightness.

This time it was Kerry detaching her hand. She groped into the open pocket of the bag for her listings folder and sort of brandished it at Celia, as if to remind them both there was business to get to, saying, “So anyway, I guess, as far as questions? Since I’m sure we both have them? Maybe I’ll just—“

“Are you running away?” The abruptness of the question brought Kerry up short. Celia made a quick shake of her head. “Not, you know, not trying to pry or anything, only, the train, the one suitcase, I thought maybe …”

From anybody else Kerry would have probably taken offense, but the girl’s expression was completely ingenuous. Childlike, almost. “In a way? I guess?” She shrugged. It felt like she was explaining something to a younger sister. “Not from anything. Just, there was nothing in my life keeping me where I was. You know? So I thought, why stay?”

Again Celia sought Kerry’s hand. “Maybe we can be each other’s reason to stay.” There was a catch in her voice. It should have been a cringe moment, but she said it with such an air of almost little-girl bravado that Kerry all but melted.

She glanced back down at her papers, trying to find a track to get back onto. “So the, ah, the room is,” she tried to remember something specific about the listing, “it’s furnished? Because I don’t, um, and the rent—“

“The room’s furnished and the rent’s as cheap as it needs to be,” Celia said. Her face seemed to Kerry like it was glowing from within. “Be my roommate. Move in with me.” She squeezed Kerry’s hand. “Also the internet’s free. Come on! We’re inevitable.”

Kerry couldn’t help smiling. The girl’s certainty was like a force of nature. They knew nothing about each other. “Come on,” she said again. She looked impish. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t know we ought to live together the minute you saw me. Tell me the universe isn’t arranging this right now.”

Literally the first girl you’ve talked to, Kerry admonished herself. She thought about the other listings she’d pulled. How many appointments did she have to get through yet today? Suddenly it was hard to remember even making any. She looked down at her folder but she knew somehow there wouldn’t be anything relevant there. There were tears in her eyes. She couldn’t see to read.

There’s a reason why you put her first, Kerry thought. She looked into her roommate-to-be’s sweet, pretty face. Maybe the universe really was making this happen.

When they came back out on the sidewalk the day had turned overcast, and Kerry shivered a little. Celia intertwined her fingers with Kerry’s and squeezed. They stood with their hands joined over the handle of Kerry’s bag and waited for the rideshare that would take them home.