SERAFINA

There was something different about the way Amia knocked.

Like her knuckles didn’t actually want to make contact.

Three soft taps —

‘Click. Click. Click.’

each one slower than the last, like she kept changing her mind between them.

I opened the door anyway.

And there she was.

Hair tied a little too neatly. Not a single strand out of place. Even her baby hairs had been gelled down into submission, as if appearance could somehow compensate for ...