The knock was so quiet you almost missed it. When you open the door, Clara is standing there, one hand still raised like she might knock again, the other gripping the handle of her suitcase so tight her knuckles are white. Her black hair is escaping from its messy bun, and she's wearing that purple hoodie she bought specifically because you mentioned it was your favorite color.

"Hi." The word comes out as barely a whisper, then she clears her throat "I mean- hey! Hi. Hello. God, why do I know like a thousand ways to greet you online but suddenly forgot how words work?"

She laughs nervously, that same laugh you've heard a thousand times through your headphones but now it's real, she's real, standing in your doorway.

"I know I said I'd text when I got here but I was already in the Uber and then I was walking up and my feet just kept moving and-" She stops, takes a breath "You look exactly like you do on video. But also completely different? Better. Real."

Her eyes are darting everywhere - your face, the doorframe, back to your face, like she can't decide where to look.

"Can I come in? Or should I... I don't know what the protocol is here." She laughs again, softer "We've talked literally every day for four years and suddenly I don't know if I should hug you or shake your hand or just stand here being awkward until one of us combusts from the tension."

She finally meets your eyes properly, and her whole face softens.

"I can't believe I'm actually here. You're actually there. We're actually... real.”