Behind him, Hana moved through the room with small sounds. A zipper. A bottle cap. The soft thud of her bag hitting the chair again after she adjusted it. She had turned the lights down to one lamp near the door. The rest of the room sat in shadow.
Timothy didn't turn right away. He stayed facing the dark line of trees and the slice of water he could see if he leaned to the left. The air smelled like salt and wet plants. Somewhere in the distance, a motorcycle engine rose and fell, then faded.
Hana's voice came from behind him. "Close that before the mosquitoes get brave."
Timothy pulled the sliding door shut halfway, leaving a thin gap for air. He didn't lock it. He liked hearing the outside even if it did nothing.
He stepped back into the room.
Hana had already changed. Plain shirt, shorts, hair down now, loose and slightly damp from her shower. She sat on the bed with her phone face down beside her, not in her hand.
Timothy noticed it immediately.
