Nadia arrives Saturday morning with a bag that is larger than the previous visit.
Not dramatically, incrementally, the specific increase of someone who is beginning to pack for a place the way you pack for somewhere you know rather than somewhere you are trying. She has added things to the north wing room over the months of visiting, a book left on the shelf, a specific mug she prefers that Reth noted and made permanently available, a jacket on the hook behind the door that she stopped taking back to Washington because bringing it back here was easier than carrying it. The room has been absorbing her gradually, the way the compound absorbs everyone, room by room, object by object, morning by morning.
She comes in through the main gate with the bag and the specific, Friday-to-Saturday qua
