Damian opened the door to his apartment cautiously. He didn"t want to surprise his guest. He wanted to call out to her, but he suddenly realized that he didn"t actually know her name. What should he call her? All he had to go by were her looks and the strange words she used the night before. What was that one word? Yanna? It was the only word he could remember.
It would have to do.
"Yanna?" he called out. "Are you there? And are you OK with me calling you Yanna?" Damian stepped into the apartment.
Yanna sat huddled on the rug in front of his couch, the blanket from his room wrapped loosely around her. She stared intently at the TV. "Shoe…" she murmured.
"Wait, what?" Damian gasped, surprised. Where had she learned that word?
"Shoe!" she repeated, this time looking at Damian, a weak sm
