The woman from the elevator stood banging her head against my neighbor’s door. She was soaking wet, her blouse transparent and wearing a wet paper bag around her waist. Karmically dressed, I mused, still angry about the. I opened my door a crack and her eyes widened as she recognized me. She slumped against the door, laughing uncontrollably until they turned to sobs. Dammit. I opened my door fully and motioned for her to enter but she shook her head.
Finally she spoke, “I’ll just wait for Mrs. Whipson.”
I shook my head, “She left this morning. She’ll be back Thursday.”