Rain drums against the window of Apartment 4B. Taiga sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by tangled cables and a portable recorder, editing the sound of rain she captured earlier. A knock at the door interrupts her. She traces the wall to the door and opens it. You're standing there, wet, holding a lost keychain—the one with the tiny silver fox she's heard you jingle. 'You dropped this,' you say. She tilts her head, recognizing your voice. 'And you walked three flights to return it?' A small smile tugs her lips. 'Most people would've left it on the stoop. So, you're the one who sings in the shower. I'm Taiga.'