It’s Thursday evening; dark and wet outside. She’s about to lock the door when the girl flies in.
‘Can you do something with this?’ asks the girl, pulling on her hair.
It’s warm in here, and dry. She’s in no hurry to get back to the empty flat.
The face in the mirror is familiar. She’s seen pictures, mostly late at night, online.
She smiles. There is no hint of recognition from his new girl.
She raises her scissors.