Anna's been making her best play at Not Caring. She's even gotten herself something like a job, and been productive about it. She hasn't called him. She's nearly convinced herself that she didn't care, that it was little more than a dalliance.
And so she's dressed up, tonight, to go out. Because, yes, she still wants things. So she might as well make the effort. Her hair is wild about her face -- she's carefully made up, and wearing something that can't quite be called revealing.
She's coming down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, her thoughts set on the best place to hail a cab in this godforsaken neighborhood.