January 21, 2025 #distresseddenim

Coco was sitting upright beside my pillow like a tiny gargoyle, pawing at the air.

Not the air.

I squinted.

That’s when Catalina’s dog phased halfway through my duvet and popped out on the other side, tail wagging.

Coco hissed. Loud. Personal.

Bro, chill, Catalina’s voice drifted in from the corner. He literally just got here. Let him live.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

They were all there.

Joe was perched awkwardly on the edge of my dresser. Donna stood behind him, arms folded.

Sally lounged in my reading chair like it had been upholstered specifically for her.

Lionel stood by the window, blending in with the curtains and adjusting his scarf.

Catalina flopped onto the foot of my bed, hoodie off for once, dark hair falling around her shoulders, glossy lips glowing like she’d just stepped out of an angel Sephora.

Okay, I muttered. Is this a meeting or a hostile takeover?

Sally sniffed. Darling, we don’t host meetings before coffee. This is a symposium.

Lionel nodded solemnly. On emotional fabrics.

Joe blinked. That’s not a thing.

It is here, Lionel said gently. You’re giving off distressed denim.

Donna covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Catalina snorted. Yeah, Joe. You’re serving thrift-store breakup core.

Joe stared at his hands. …Is that bad?

It’s transitional, Lionel said kindly. You’ll evolve into cashmere eventually.

Joe nodded like this made perfect sense.

Sally crossed her legs, inspecting her nails.

Lionel leaned over her, also inspecting.

Sally snapped her eyes open. Darling, if you sing, I haunt you.

Catalina whispered, I ship their trauma bond.

Coco lunged at Catalina’s dog.
They both froze mid-air like a paused cartoon.

He started it, Catalina said.

Joe rubbed his face. Is this heaven or a daycare?

Lionel turned to Joe, lowering his voice.
Feel that tension in your shoulders? That’s burlap energy. It means unresolved guilt.

Joe winced. I knew it.

Don’t worry, Lionel said. We’ll get you into something breathable.

Catalina shrugged. I just love chaos. It’s my brand.

It’s not a brand, Sally said. It’s a personality disorder.

Catalina gasped. Slay.

I rubbed my temples. Okay, why are you all here?

Joe raised his hand like he was back in school.

We heard you wrote about how weird your sessions are.

You can’t make this stuff up, Donna added.

Correct, Sally said. So we’re adding footnotes.

Lionel gestured to Coco and the dog.
Exhibit A: celestial pet custody disputes.

Catalina beamed. Also God’s dimension has better vibes than TikTok.

Joe frowned. There’s TikTok in heaven?

No, Catalina said. But the algorithm still finds you.

Sally sighed.
I need a drink.

A vermouth appeared in her hand.

She took a sip.

There. Balance restored.

Lionel nodded.
That’s vermouth with a hint of unresolved flirtation.

Donna laughed.

Joe looked at me.
Do you… feel God when we’re here?

I nodded. Every time.

The room softened. Warmed. Like the air itself leaned in.

Catalina’s dog finally jumped into her arms.
Coco hissed.

He’s literally jealous of a dead dog, Catalina said.

Sally rose, smoothing her muumuu.
Well. That’s enough emotional vulnerability for one evening.

Lionel adjusted his scarf.
Cashmere next week for Joe.

Joe nodded seriously.

I blinked.

They were gone.

Coco flopped back down.
The dog was gone too.
The room felt holy. Quiet. Full.

I lay back down.
​
God, I whispered. You have a weird sense of humor.