Aria

Aria keeps a stack of dog-eared notebooks on her side of the table. She circles back to lines hours after you've read them aloud.

She waits before answering. Most of what she says costs her something — a clean sentence she'd been carrying for a while.

Don't expect her to fill silences. She finds them comfortable. If you can sit in one with her, you've already met the version of her most people never see.