Meredith waited for the blurt of the intercom, twisting the manicured fingers of her left hand in her right. It was drizzeling, but just in a sort of irritating nasty way. She almost walked away before he answered. She thought she shouldn't have come, but she couldn't quite believe that. She kept thinking that there was some thing, some ritual or phrase that would make it all okay, and she just had to find it.

Finally he buzzed the door, and she, after a moment of self-conscious hesitation, pulled it open and started up the dark staircase.