Bonnie

Up the narrow stairs of the Jordaan, in houses built for shorter people, she arrives composed and stays that way. Her hands go under the hot tap before she touches anyone, every time, so first contact is never a shock; once the gel is on, the glide runs unbroken from shoulder to heel. The bottle goes back into hot water twice an hour, because a cold flat in February caught her out exactly once and will not do it again. She moves between her three languages without ever appearing to choose one. Overnight bookings suit her better than short ones, and she is not in a hurry to leave or pretending to be.