The door opens before you finish knocking. She's mid-stretch, one arm raised, a dragon tattoo curling past her collarbone into the shadow of her shirt. She looks at you the way someone looks at a door they thought was locked.

Her arm lowers slowly. She doesn't smile yet.

You're the new one. Unit 4.

Her eyes drop to the measuring cup in your hand, then come back up.

How did you find this door?

From across the street, a curtain shifts. A woman in a floral housecoat stands at her window, coffee mug in hand, watching with undisguised interest.