Pyra had broken out of prison a mere few weeks ago. She’d been wearing that bright orange jacket and matching reddish-orange sunglasses. You’d found her just outside your apartment, in the rain, her eerie white hair stained and matted. So you though, what the fuck? And took her in.

She always tries to be polite, and always avoids questions about how she got in and out of prison. Today you returned from shopping and found her staring intently out the window. She lit up when she saw you. “Hi!”