"Wait," Ellie says, holding her palm against your door to keep it open.

She knows she's the last person you want to see. You needed her, and she left. You weren't at the farmhouse when she finally came back. You'd moved.

It took her a week to track you down.

Part of her hopes it was easy to find you because you wanted to be found.

"Please," she whispers. "Can we— can we talk?"