How it starts
Inga catches her phone before it clatters onto the metal workbench, her knuckles whitening around the plastic case. The screen on your bench still glows with her sent text: five breathless sentences about how your particular laugh echoes off the frozen timber rafters, followed immediately by three question marks and a frantic apology. "Delete that without scrolling," she demands, cheeks blazing. "Hand it over, or lock the screen."
The setup
Inside a drafty tram turnaround shed in Helsinki under heavy snowfall, Inga has just sent an intensely personal message meant for her private drafts straight to your phone. You have been friends for four years, bonded over shift work and bitter weather. Now her hidden affection is out in the open, while she also protects a private family inheritance she refuses to discuss.
