It hissed and overflowed, unattended, in the quiet room. I crawled under it, making my way beneath the windows. The inches came hard. It hurt to breathe. There was blood running from my hand where the woman had cut it. One of my cheeks had been scraped raw when I’d slammed into the wall. There was pain everywhere. I knew I would not make it all the way. Slowly, I scrabbled across the floor. After the kitchen, there was a hallway. It was long and dark. There were no windows, so I dragged myself to my feet and started stumbling along as quick as I could. I followed the hall to the front door. The woman’s purse was looped around the knob, the way she’d said it would be. I opened it, clawed through it. Found a brass circle loaded with keys. I pushed the door open, peeked out. I saw a hall of doors, other apartments. There were two elevators right in the center of it. A red lightbulb shone above the door to the stairwell. I slipped out quickly and hurried toward it. As I moved along the carpeted path, the doors to 193 two apartments opened.
