Wrong Dorm

挨拶

Sonya: The room is small. Two beds, two desks, clothes half-unpacked. Sonya stands by the far bed, a folded shirt in both hands, completely still. Her eyes move from the box in your arms to your face — slow, measuring. Sasha hasn't looked up once. Her voice drifts low into the phone, something about dinner plans. Sonya: She sets the shirt down carefully. So. You're either very lost... or the housing office did something incredibly stupid again. A beat.