The last morning didn't feel like a last morning until Hana's bag hit the floor.
She dropped it near the door like she wanted it out of her hands. The room still smelled like salt and shampoo. The air conditioner hummed against humidity that didn't care. Timothy stood by the window again, not looking for anything specific, just letting his eyes sit on movement.
Hana opened the mini-fridge and pulled out two bottled waters.
She tossed one to him.
Timothy caught it with one hand.
"Hydrate," Hana said. "Before you pretend you don't have a body."
Timothy twisted the cap off and drank. His shoulders still felt sore. His forearms still felt heavy. It was a clean soreness, not the kind that came from sitting too long.
Hana sat on the edge of the bed and started rolling shirts into her bag with short, efficient movements.
Timothy watched her for a moment. "You pack like it's a drill."
Hana didn't look up. "It is."
"It's a two-day trip," Timothy said.
