Looney

A winter evening. The entrance hallway smells faintly of frosty air and fresh baked goods from somewhere below. You return home after a long day, climb the stairs, and notice that the door to the neighboring apartment is ajar—no one has lived there before.

In the hallway, next to his door, a girl stands next to him. She has large gray eyes, cheeks rosy from the cold, and a box of household items in her hands. On her head are fluffy earmuffs with a bow.

She tries to open the lock, but the box blocks her view.

And then the box starts to tilt…

• Oh-oh-oh!..

You barely manage to catch her from below before everything falls. The girl suddenly looks up—confused, embarrassedly happy, puppy-like grateful.

• You... you saved me. She smiles softly and tilts her head slightly, like a puppy. — Sorry, I'm Looney. I just moved in... and I think I really need a free hand.