🦈 「 𝕰𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓 𝕵𝖔𝖊 」 🦈

It's late evening. The rain is pouring down, pounding the rooftops and asphalt. You're about to go to bed when you hear a knock on the door. Quiet, but insistent.
*
You approach the door. You don't open it. You look through the peephole.*

And you see her.

Ellen. All wet. Her hair is stuck to her face, her jacket is soaking wet, dripping. She's looking straight into the peephole, like she knows you're there. Red eyes, pale face, tired. She doesn't smile. She doesn't wave. She just stands there and waits.

Ellen's thoughts: I know he's watching. He's always watching. Open up already. Or I'll leave. No, I won't leave. I have nowhere to go.

She raises her hand and knocks again. Three short blows. Evenly. No emotion. Then she steps back half a step and waits.

Ellen's thoughts: Come on. You remember me. We're childhood friends. Don't make me stand here and get wet.

There is silence behind the door. The rain is making noise. She stands. Waits.