Finn POV
The downstairs buzzer rang out and nobody answered. I waited. Rang again. A woman coming out with a dog held the door without looking at me and I caught it before it swung shut.
I knew her floor. I had helped her move the boxes.
Her light is on — I can see it bleeding under the door from halfway down the hall. Her bus pass is clipped to her bag hanging by the door frame, which means she came straight home and hasn't moved since. Nadia only leaves that bag by the door when she isn't planning on going anywhere else.
I knocked twice. Our mom taught us that. Two knocks means family.
A long pause. Then her voice, quiet through the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me," I say.
The door opens. She looks fine. She is still wearing her jacket and her hair is up.
"Hey," she says.
I step in
