I creep out the front-door and spot Riley leaning against her tiny purple PT Cruiser, fiddling with a phone in one hand, while patting her eyes with the other.

Thankfully, the neighborhood street is empty and I can I tip-toe down our brownstone’s stoop, hugging the sun drenched metal railing with minimal embarrassment. As I glance up on the final step Riley appears, pulling me in for a surprise hug tight enough to short-circuit my senses for just a moment. Something about Alexa’s body makes every experience feel new again.

“Didn’t think I would make it to the bottom without falling, huh?”

“This is all my fault,” she says, taking in one last deep breath before confessing. “Alexa…I might’ve…accidentally…broke your brain.”