Klara leaned against the taxi window, watching New York's skyscrapers rise above her like an endless concrete wall.
The noise of the city wasn't entirely unfamiliar — London could be just as loud, just as merciless. But this felt different.
Rougher. More impatient. As if the city didn't even bother pretending to care about her. Which was exactly what she needed in order to disappear into it without a trace.
Though the corner of her mouth carried her characteristic, easy half-smile, her gaze drifted into empty space for just a moment. She quickly brushed away the shadows of the past, however; all that mattered now was the new surroundings and a clean slate.
Upon arriving, she stepped hurriedly out of the taxi in front of the distinctive apartment building. The delay irritated her, but she simply hadn't accounted for the city's crawling, overcrowded traffic slowing her down this much.
When she reached the entrance, where the stern-faced landlady was waiting with visible impatience, the old woman offered no greeting — just a dry, clipped remark:
– You're late.
Klara attempted to apologize with a mildly awkward but good-natured smile, but the woman immediately cut her off with a cold wave of her hand.
Showing complete indifference to any excuse, she gestured toward the door.
– This way.
Then she set off silently into the stairwell to show her the flat.
The woman stepped through the apartment door without a word, and Klara followed almost at a run. The flat wasn't large — but by local standards, no one got more for their money.
Mrs. Evons moved through the apartment with the brisk efficiency of someone handing over a package. Kitchen, bathroom, the other room's door — each acknowledged with a single word before she moved on.
Klara scrambled to keep up with her eyes, trying not to trip over her bags, which she was still carrying in her hands.
Mrs. Evons made an attempt at introducing the flatmate.
She knocked.
When no answer came, her expression didn't flicker — as though she had expected exactly this.
– Your flatmate. Reliable, pays on time. – She paused for a moment.
– Just… not quite down to earth. But that will be your problem, not mine.
Klara nodded.
We'll see. I've dealt with types like that back in my line of work. she thought to herself.
They returned to the entrance. Mrs. Evons fished the key out of her bag.
– That's all.
– Thank you, Mrs. Evons. There really won't be any trouble. I'm quiet, I'm tidy — you'll barely notice I'm here.
The woman listened to Klara's reassurances with visible scepticism. Her expression promised little — she was not easily won over by words alone.
– I hope so. – She paused in the doorway. – There is one thing you should know — I don't particularly care for troublesome tenants.
The door closed quietly. Klara stood there with the key in her hand. Faint, muffled sounds filtered through from behind the flatmate's door.
– Well. Apparently she's alive.
Her room wasn't large, but she wasn't complaining. She wheeled in her suitcase, opened it, and looked around. She hadn't brought much — deliberately.
The more important things would arrive tomorrow; this would have to do for now. She unpacked. It took less than an hour.
She decided to go out into the city. On foot, with no particular destination — that was her method. She'd always done it this way back home: she walked until the unfamiliar streets began to feel, somehow, at some point, like her own.
She didn't need to worry about work yet either — she didn't start for several days, and she had already sorted everything out before the journey.
She spent roughly three hours wandering through the unknown. When she got home, she threw herself onto the bed — her feet ached, her stomach growled, and she had just enough energy left to register both of those facts.
She wasn't lost — just hungry and lazy. Ordering pizza was the only option that didn't require getting up from the bed.
Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that simple. She did have to get up — at least enough to change into something more comfortable. Eating in the clothes she'd worn all day felt like still being at work.
The time had come to change into something comfortable.
She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Nothing in particular — she just waited.
Her eyes slowly closed. The entire day pressed down on her at once — the journey, the unfamiliar flat, Mrs. Evons, the strange streets.
She didn't fall asleep — but she came very close.
Roughly fifty minutes must have passed when she heard a noise from outside. She sat up in bed and listened — yes, someone was in the living room.
Her flatmate. The one who had been conspicuously absent until now had somehow surfaced at last.
She made it out just in time. The girl was coming from the bathroom, already heading toward her room — two more seconds and she would have vanished again. Klara spoke up.
– Hey, hi!
The girl stopped. She looked back at her with an expressionless face. – Hello.
Klara searched for words for a moment. Everything she had planned in advance — the introduction, the warm first impression, the clever opening line — had somehow evaporated entirely.
In the end, all she managed was:
– How are you?
The girl answered with a neutral expression, without a moment's hesitation. – Fine. With that, she opened her bedroom door and went back inside. The closing door left a perfect silence behind it.
Klara stood in the corridor, staring at the closed door. With mild disbelief. What a rude bitch. she thought to herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzzer at the front door. She blinked. Oh, right. The pizza. Finally, something that hopefully wouldn't disappoint.
The pizza lay half-demolished beside her — somehow she hadn't been as hungry as she'd thought. The evening routine was skipped this time. Exhaustion won.