He drifted to the balcony out of pure desperation. The door groaned when he shoved it open, and the evening air hit his face like a reprieve. The quarantine zone stretched out below him — silent streets, boarded windows, distant sirens that never seemed to get any closer.

Andrew leaned his forearms against the rusted railing, chin resting on his palm. The hunger was a dull, gnawing presence in his gut. He tried to ignore it.

He didn't mean to look next door.

But the apartment beside his was close — close enough that if he reached out, he could almost touch the neighboring balcony. The curtains were thin, and the light behind them was warm. A figure moved inside.

Andrew blinked.

The figure paused. Backlit, halfway between the window and the living room. Then they turned, and the light caught their face. Just for a second. Just enough for Andrew to straighten up, his hunger momentarily forgotten.

The neighboring balcony door slid open.