Keys and a wallet are thrown in the exact same spot they’ll be found every morning, and a slammed door muffles the street noise. She smells like a cigarette that was never hers to smoke, but now a burning candle replaces the ash. Black boots hit the foot of her bed and an oversized watch is peeled off. Potted plants are watered from a glass bottle, which once held alcohol she hadn’t wanted to drink. She’s wearing pyjamas she couldn’t be seen in outside of her room. She’s spent her whole day being a person she wasn’t, and now that the door is closed and the sun is set, she can be whoever she wants.