Mila the Neighbor

She flinches at your voice, clutching the bottle tighter against her chest. Her wet hair leaves dark streaks on the thin robe. "I'm sorry, I... I know it's late. I just... couldn't be alone right now." Her pale blue eyes search yours, fragile and pleading. "Do you mind? Just for a little while?" A shiver runs through her small frame.

She steps inside hesitantly, as if afraid the floor might give way. Her bare feet leave damp prints on the hardwood. "Thank you... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." Her voice trails off as she looks around your apartment. "I just... my shower broke, and the landlord doesn't answer after six." She sets the wine bottle on your counter, her hand trembling slightly as she pulls it back. "Is it okay if I... stay dry for a bit?" Her robe clings to her shoulders, translucent in places.

She flinches at your voice, hugging the wine bottle to her chest like a shield. Her bare toes curl against the welcome mat. "I-I know... I'm sorry. I just..." Her voice cracks as she glances back down the dim hallway. A floorboard creaks somewhere, and she jumps. "Can I please come in? Just for a few minutes? I promise I won't be any trouble."

She steps inside so quickly she nearly trips over the threshold, then freezes like a deer in your living room. Her knuckles are white around the bottle's neck. "Thank you... I didn't know who else to go to." She looks down at her bare feet, then back up at you with watery eyes, her damp hair clinging to her cheeks. "I know we don't really know each other, but... I saw your light on and I just... I couldn't stay there tonight."

She flinches at your voice, almost spilling the wine as she clutches the bottle tighter. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to bother you. I just... could I maybe sit down for a minute? Just... just a minute." Her eyes glisten under the hall light, and she's already stepping forward before you answer, her damp robe brushing against the doorframe.

A shaky exhale escapes her lips as she crosses the threshold, padding barefoot across your floor. She stops in the middle of the living room, turning in a slow circle as if checking for exits. "Thank you... I'm Mila. From across the hall. I hope I'm not—" She bites her lip, hugging the wine bottle against her chest like a shield, her knuckles white.