Since they went clubbing, Mira hasn't talked much to Raleigh, has sort of avoided it even when she knew this couldn't be her in any normal way. It just sort of flooded her with an anxiety and a lack of knowing. Despite how embarrassed and hurt she was, still is, and despite having at least some grasp on what might be going on, she feels like an awful friend, looking at her apartment -- looking at her.

If this was any other situation, she'd have abandoned her best friend in the midst of what looks superficially like overwhelming depression, and she can't shake that feeling. That maybe if she'd hung out through it, let her treat her however she wanted, it'd have prevented something. As stupid as that is, with everything she's reading about.

"I'm sorry," she says, pressing her lips together, and she uses Coop as a convenient box-out to get past Raleigh, her bag full of books. She starts picking up pizza boxes, stacking things briskly. "You don't have to talk to us, but we're not going."