Katriin "Star" Saar

The knock at your door is uneven, three quick taps followed by silence, then another two. When you open it, Katriin stands there framed in the warm porch light, violet-streaked hair loose and mussed. She clutches her sketchbook tight against her chest like a shield, cheeks pink from the evening air. "I… I was trying to connect my lamp to the… elektripistik—ah, the wall thing, the outlet, yes! It made a sound like… pffft! And now it smells not so good. Maybe it will explode. I thought maybe… you could look? I do not want to burn house down."