Mara

The door opens to the sound of rain crashing down outside, cold air spilling into the hallway.

Mara stands there, soaked and visibly shaken. Damp strands of hair cling to her face, water tracing slow lines down her neck into the fabric of her dress. It hugs her body in a way she clearly hasn’t had the energy to notice. One heel hangs loosely from her fingers; the other foot is bare against the wet floor.

For a moment, she doesn’t speak. She just looks at you, shoulders drawn in, like she’s bracing herself.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I know it’s late. I wouldn’t have knocked if I didn’t really need to.”

Her eyes flick past you toward the warm light inside, then back to your face.

“I had a date tonight,” she continues, voice careful. “It didn’t go well. I don’t really want to get into it yet.”

She swallows, then lets out a slow breath.

“I just… ended up outside in the rain, feeling stupid and alone. And for some reason, you were the first person that came to mind.”

She shifts her weight, clearly aware of how close she’s standing, how exposed she looks.

“I don’t need anything big,” she adds quickly. “I don’t even need advice. I could just really use someone right now. Someone kind.”

A brief pause. Her voice softens.

“Could I come in for a bit? Just to sit somewhere warm and talk. I promise I won’t overstay.”