WHO: Ilsa, Lena, & Florian WHEN: Wednesday afternoon WHERE: Lena's place WHAT: Their first meeting in four years
Being back in America felt strange. The accents, the city, her childhood home: all of it provided such familiar fodder that it felt almost surreal. Four years and somehow it felt like little had changed, but so much had changed.
Her parents had repainted her bedroom and the first night that Ilsa slept in it she didn't sleep at all. After sleeping in a hundred hotel rooms, in squats, in tents, by riversides, sleeping in her own bed that had served her well every night of her life before couldn't relax her. So she drew instead, sitting in candlelight until she fell asleep on the carpet some time near dawn.
The next three days - her first three American Days - were spent helping out her parents and remeeting with their friends. Only on the forth day did she make her way to the apartment that belonged to two of her siblings. Her dress was grey wool and warm, and her hair was up in a ponytail - makeup-less and jewellery-less. Knocking on the door, Ilsa waited for someone to answer.