A soft pattern of knocks on a solid oak door. A few moments later it’s opened a fraction, then pulled wide. The young woman tumbles in, her dark hair tangled.
‘They’ve arrested Paul,’ she says. ‘This morning.’
‘You were there?’
‘I visited later. I was to collect the leaflets. We need to warn the others.’
‘Were you followed?’
‘No. I ... I made sure.’
‘You need to go home, Agáta, and act as if you know nothing. It’s the only way.’
‘And the others?’
‘Paul is strong and stubborn. We’ll do our best and hopefully it won’t be too late.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.