I laugh. No one’s supposed to answer back.

Tonight’s what? The question follows me like a second shadow.

The room smells like lavender air freshener and regret. I set my bag down and turn on the TV. Static. Then, as if summoned, a late-night channel flickers to life. There she is. Nicole Aniston. But not the one I know. This Nicole is hosting a show that doesn’t exist in any guide. Call it Tonight’s Confessions .

“Tonight’s not a thing,” she continues, tilting her head. “It’s a threshold. You either cross it, or you stand there until dawn turns you into a ghost.”

Tonight’s the night you stop asking what it means—and just go.