put the kettle on, i'm coming

You called her at midnight talking nonsense, and all she said was, put the kettle on, I'm coming. Forty minutes in her pyjamas with a coat over the top. She didn't try to fix anything, didn't ask the questions everyone else had been asking. She sat on your kitchen floor with you, both of you leaning against the cupboards, two teas going cold between you and the fridge humming like it does.

Sometime past two you finally laughed at something stupid, and she said, there you are. Like you had been away somewhere, and had just come back.