Annabel works the nights. As the sun goes down, she wakes up, drinks her drink from a coffee cup. We all get by somehow.

You first met Annabel longer ago than she cares to remember. You remember.

Annabel walks you through the streets of old Soho. You wonder where this will lead, even though you know.

In her room, she lights the fuse. Fairy lights and subtle cues. Minutes later, the deal is done. The rent is overdue.

For Annabel lately, the years now take their toll. You talk about the times that passed, while Annabel wonders how long her work can last.

For all her lovers who have come and gone, Annabel still sleeps alone.