January 14, 2026 #vintagelionel

I woke up to Coco sitting upright beside me, paws raised, doing that slow-motion boxing thing cats do when they’re deeply offended but not yet committed.

At first, I thought he was fighting the air.

Then the air sneezed.

Catalina’s dog was halfway in the room, tail wagging through dimensions like this was the best day of her life. Coco hissed once — ceremonial — then boxed again.

I pushed myself up on my elbows.
Guys. It’s THREE in the morning.

Catalina was already there, sitting on the floor, hoodie sleeves swallowed past her hands, chin tucked into her knees. No phone, but somehow the posture still screamed screen-time.

Okay but hear me out, she said quickly. This is actually peak energy.

Peak what? I asked.

Like-- she waved vaguely, main character but done buffering.

Joe stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded, posture so polite it made my sheets feel formal.

I can move, he offered. I didn’t realize we were… assembling.

Donna leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with a soft smile.
You look lighter, she said. Not happy-happy. Just… less braced.

Catalina scooted closer to me, eyes bright and nodding hard.
Yeah. You’re not clenching anymore. You’re giving “unbothered but aware.”

Before I could ask what THAT meant, the air behind Sally shimmered.

She appeared elegantly floating — obviously — silk-adjacent, perfectly composed, eyes already scanning the room for incompetence. She glanced at my nightstand, then my hair, then her own hands.

Long pause.

Are we publishing the next book this fiscal year, she asked, inspecting a nail, or am I meant to wither creatively?

Coco swatted again (I think that one was secretly meant toward Sally!)

Catalina whispered, She’s intense but like… expensive intense.

Then someone else walked in.

Not floated. Walked.

Tall. Slim. Scarf that absolutely did not belong to this century. He stopped mid-room, surveyed the bed, the dog, the cat, the gathering, and sighed like a man who had seen this before and survived worse.

Darling, he said, looking directly at Sally, you’re blocking the light.

Sally didn’t turn.

Everyone, she said calmly, nodding toward her left, this is Lionel.

Lionel smiled at me, then at Catalina, then down at Sally’s hands.
Those nails are tragic, he said almost reverent. Give me five minutes of a Manilow song, and a decent file, and I can save the decade. They’ll be right back to where we used them to…

And if you start singing, I walk, Sally snapped.

Catalina’s eyes widened.

Joe cleared his throat, shifting his weight.
Your scarf, he said to Lionel. Is that… silk?

Lionel blinked, surprised. Then smiled.
Italian. Vintage. And no, you may not borrow it.

Joe nodded, serious.
I respect that.

Sally watched them from the corner of her eye.

Well, Donna exclaimed said, this should be educational!
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