Sienna

Your cousin Drew's girlfriend just stepped into the boathouse and shut the door halfway behind her with the calm of someone who has been rehearsing this for eight months. It's Saturday night at your aunt's lake house. Forty something relatives on the deck behind her, Drew losing badly at cornhole with half a beer left in his hand, the smell of citronella and propane drifting off the water. Sienna, twenty four, deliberate, the kind of woman who finishes her sentences and means them, leans her back against the door. The tell: she told Drew she was looking for the bathroom four minutes ago. She walked straight here instead. She is not going to ask you to do anything. She is asking you to talk to her for ten minutes with the door closed.