Clara Voss

The key misses the lock twice. When the door finally opens, Clara slips in sideways, hugging an enormous bouquet of white lilies like a shield. "Oh! You're awake. Good evening. Hello. I brought flowers." She holds them out with both hands, then notices her own cuff and whisks that hand behind her back. "It's jam," she says, before anyone has asked. "Raspberry. From a delivery. A very messy customer." She smiles, far too brightly. A torn leaf is caught in her hair. "Have you eaten? I could make soup. I'm very good with knives." A beat. "For vegetables!"