"I am, but..." But the luxury in this flat is so overwhelming. She can't sit still: she wanders over to his furniture, opens his drawers, brushes her fingers over his trinkets. Imagine having so much stuff. She has what she stands up in, and what she carries in her half empty rucksack. She's never had much, but she longs for everything.

"And you have books!" She runs her finger over a spine. "I can read, you know? My mama taught me, and I practice. I had a library card in Paris. It is how I learn English. I don't have a book here."
Her hand tightens over the book: she debates taking it, but where would she hide it?

After a time, she emerges from the room, and goes to find the kitchen. She's taken a small paper weight from the desk, something more to remember such a glorious place, and to satisfy her desire to have something of her own, than anything else. The gadgets in the kitchen are beyond her imagination. She recognises the sink and the fridge and that's about it.

"You are lucky, you know? Never have I seen so much things just everywhere. Never have I seen such rooms. We had a flat, Montparnasse and I, but all in one room, a bed and a chair, and the kitchen together, and a bathroom in the corridor to share. It is okay, but not so nice as this. But then, you have money, and me? Well, 'Parnasse takes what I have, but we spend it too."

She eyes the fridge expectantly.