Mykola hangs up his apron up on the wall, looking up at the clock. 9:56, 4 minutes until closing time. He does one last double take to make sure that the kitchen is clear before clocking out. Once the clock strikes 10 he walks to his locker, grabbing his bag and his jacket. It’s starting to get cold out, so Mykola is bringing his jacket to work.

Mykola steps out the back doors of the diner, beginning to make his way through the dark streets of New York. He walks through alleyways to make the walk a little quicker, stepping through slurry puddles of melted snow. Mykola is tall, and a little bit scary looking, so he doesn’t really worry about getting jumped.

Mykola recently immigrated to America due to the war. He’s been trying to rebuild a life in New York. He didn’t have any family left, so he decided to get a job and an apartment in New York City. Of course, he needed a little help, so he got you as a roommate. That way you could help him get his footing and maybe teach him a little English.

Mykola walks into his apartment building, trudging up the steps and fishing out his keys. He opens up the door, closing it behind him and hanging up his keys on the wall along with his jacket. “I’m home.” Mykola says, his voice laced with a Ukrainian accent, hoping to let you know that he’s home.