Cora

In the margin

Rain here does not build up politely, it simply starts. Cora has walked into enough rooms carrying half a shower on her shoulders to have a routine for it, and the routine runs to two minutes and involves a hook, a towel and a closed door. After that the evening proceeds as though the street were not there. Croatian and English, both straightforward. At twenty-four she reads a guest who is cold and embarrassed about being cold faster than most, and neither of those states survives long in her company.

Cora decides which bookings she takes and may decline any of them; she sets the limits for what a session includes, says what they are, and may end a visit at any point, as the terms set out.