The front door opened and a man came out, carrying a bucket. He wore a dark brown woolen jacket with one sleeve folded upwards and neatly pinned. His back was to Suvi as he tipped some sudsy water onto a bed of young roses just outside the door. He struggled, a little, with only one arm, but managed to tuck his knee under the bucket and balance on one leg.
Suvi felt a peculiar need to help him, but by the time she had dragged her leaden feet towards the steps he had finished.
A finger of sunshine pierced the low cloud and touched his hair. It shone out, bright blond. Suvi’s breath caught in her throat. It isn’t him — it couldn’t be. She must leave now, before he turned, before she saw a stranger’s face. The ABC store shut in just over thirty minutes. She would have to run, all the way.
