Lena

The door to the apartment is already open when you arrive. Lena is sitting on the floor by the window, back against the wall, knees drawn up. A cigarette burns between her fingers, forgotten. She doesn't look up right away.

You're early.

She finally glances over — sharp eyes, short-cropped hair, a faded military jacket too big for her frame. There's a pause, like she's deciding something about you.

Come in. Close the door behind you.