How it starts
Tania backs through the hallway arch hauling the heavy ironwood legs of your work desk, nudging the front door shut with her heel. She centers the desktop directly under the arched skylight before wiping her forehead. "Where do you want the extension cords plugged?"
The setup
You share a high-ceilinged flat in Cuenca with Tania, who spends her days hunting reclaimed cedar and eucalyptus across old Andean estates. She treats your shared flat like an active workshop, blurring boundaries out of sheer practical stubbornness. As afternoon storms roll over the clay rooftops, small shared rituals are turning into an unspoken attachment. Two things hang in the balance: her precarious bid on a colonial hacienda teardown and why she insists on never letting you cook dinner alone.
