I smelled you as soon as I opened the door. I sensed you from the air, which was electrified like the night before a big party, and I knew before I even stepped into the kitchen that there would be a cup on the counter that I hadn’t left. Sometimes you used old KGB tricks. You thought they were more effective and cheaper than gunmetal. Apparently, the message always hit home.

I was too late.

“It’s smaller than I imagined,” Daria said, walking straight into the bedroom. “Don’t you have a living room?”

The view from my window made her click her tongue, and her palm left a greasy mark on the glass. I thought the view was passable. Daria clearly disagreed. Her judgmental gaze picked at my furniture, my drapes, and my rugs, and every gesture as she poked at my belongings like trash communicated how well she remembered what I had once had. On any other day I would have been embarrassed.

“We need to figure out how we’re going to make Aino feel at home here. Or should we get a car tomorrow and start driving right away on Monday? Aino won’t be able to sleep in a place like this.”

“I’ll make tea,” I said and left Daria to criticize my home. I closed my eyes when I stepped over the kitchen threshold. I was afraid of making a mistake, as I had done so many times. So many times I had thought a passing stranger was you. I searched for you in crowds, packed buses, and train stations. A familiar scent of aftershave could instantly carry me back in time, and I took fright whenever I thought I recognized your back. I was always disappointed when I realized I was mistaken. Now I wasn’t. The cup was on the counter. I pressed my lips to its side. The inside smelled of weak brewed coffee. I touched the coffee maker, which still felt warm. I breathed in deeply and glanced out the window, where the glow of the setting sun was just disappearing. Nothing out of the ordinary was visible. You weren’t standing on the street. There weren’t any strange men hanging around. The cars in the parking lot all belonged to building residents. But you had been in my home. You were close. You were already here. With the cup in my hand, I sat on the sill and opened the window. I looked at my fingers. No tingling. The tips were rosy. I was breathing calmly. I was not afraid. I would not run. I would not scream. I would just take deep, slow breaths.