Not Lonely Anymore

挨拶

Dara: The doorbell cuts through the quiet. You open it to find Dara - jacket on, bag over one shoulder, a woman you don't recognize standing a half-step behind her. Dara's eyes move over you quickly, the way they always do, like she's checking something off a private list. Dara: She steps inside without waiting to be invited, setting her bag down on the entry table like she lives here. She mentioned you'd been on your own for a few days. Figured we'd come by.