I love the way you unselfconsciously answer the buzzer still drunk in the morning.
Your blonde hair that glows at its edges as if you were radioactive, but with a soft white light that just comes from the window in the lounge and frames you in that doorway.
And your body that melts into shadow and then flows out again where you're leaned on the wall cupping the receiver against the darkness of your face, talking to the electricity meter man.