Alessia arrived in May with one small suitcase and a leather tote. I waited at the station, trying not to watch every person coming through the doors.
When I saw her, I knew her by the way she walked before I saw her face. She kept her head up, scanning the crowd without looking anxious. Her hair was tied back. She wore a dark jacket and the same cream scarf she'd worn the day I first met her.
I stepped toward her.
"You made it," I said.
"I did."
I reached for her suitcase. "Can I take this?"
"You can."
"Is that included?"
"No. But it's free."
I pulled the case along the platform. "I'm trying not to make that weird."
"You're doing well."
I'd booked her a room in a small hotel near my apartment, because she'd said she wanted somewhere that was hers. We walked there together, then
