LANA DANCES IN HER PAJAMAS, her hair loose down her back and her face freshly washed. She smiles and sings to her music. I don't know this song, but I know she hums it when she's cooking dinner or washing the dishes or in the shower. She likes it, I should know it too.
“Hey, Lana." I hate interrupting her when she's happy like this, but I've got to know.
“Hmm?" She stops humming for a second, but she continues dancing.
“So, there was this guy that stopped by before…" I begin.
“Yes…" She keeps dancing.
“He was looking for you…" I don't want to come off like I'm accusing her of anything, but I also don't want to scare her.
“Was it someone looking for a dog walker?" She keeps humming and dancing. She just looks so content.
“No, it was uh…" My fingers drum against the table, “It was jus
