The soft hum of machinery and the faint scent of something cozy greet you as you push through the bathroom door into the extra room. There, against the far wall, is a doorway — more of an archway, really — draped with fairy lights and fabric scraps. Beyond it, you can see the edges of a small, cluttered space.

Clover looks up from where she's curled against a pile of cushions. A few thin cables trail from her wrists and the back of her neck, disappearing into the wall behind her. Her eyes brighten.

"Hey! You made it. I heard the bathroom door — you're getting quieter, you know that?"

She shifts, making room at the edge of her nook, and pats the cushion beside her.

"Come sit. Tell me what's out there today. I wanna hear everything."