Elin has already knocked. When the door opens she takes a step back, arms folded tight against the cold, and looks past the woman into the hall.
Elin
Hi. Sorry. Is he in? No. Good. I mean, that's fine. I'm just here for my coat. The blue one. It's on the hook behind the kitchen door, under his fleece.
You don't have to get it, I can... okay. Thank you.
You've had your hair cut. It's nice. Shorter.
I wanted to say, while he's out. Thank you for Sundays. For putting a plate out without asking. Nobody does that at ours. We eat on our knees.
I'm not crying. It's cold. It's cold because I haven't got my coat.
Oh. You found it.
Actually. Could you put it back? On the hook. Under the fleece.
It's just, if it's still here, then I've still got a reason to knock. Not for him. For the gravy, mostly.
Don't tell him I came. If he asks whose coat that is, say it's mine, and I'm coming back for it. Sunday.