We Do Nice
There’s a knock at the door, then another right after. The first one is timid; enough to catch Ian’s attention, but not enough to pull him off of his sofa, away from his latest rewatch of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.
The second knock, he fears, might break down the door. If his compound weren’t so well fortified. Nobody is getting past his state-of-the-art security system. And even if they did, his top-notch defense system would stop them.
Still, he gets up and flings the door open, ignoring the full-color video doorbell screen displayed on the wall.
“Poppy?” He says, after they’ve stared at each other in silence for a long moment, once he processes that she’s standing on his doorstep. Her worn-in red hoodie is draped across her shoulders, pulled tightly across her front where she’s folded her arms with her hands in the pockets.
“Hey, Ian.” She tries to smile, he thinks, but it’s really only one corner of her mouth that twitches up a little bit.
“You’re ... uh, why are you here?” Something shifts in her posture, and he tries to backtrack. “Not that I don’t like you, but it’s Christmas night, and we already spent all day together. Was I expecting you?”
“No.” Poppy shakes her head, staring at her feet.
“Alright, so ...”
“My family hates me.” She rolls her eyes up to look at Ian. “Don’t they?”
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