This is a fictional exploration of an encounter one night in an elevator. I should have followed up...
Peter saw the elevator door closing, and jumped to get his hand in the crack. It was late, and he wanted to get to bed. A hunched figure inside, a slim girl with red hair, startled at his entrance, turned, and he smiled an apology before noticing her tear-streaked face, the terror in her eyes as she shrank into the corner furthest from him, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.
He knew her: a junior lecturer in architecture, living one floor below his guest apartment. He was moved to offer comfort, but she shrank away at his every movement. The elevator slowed, and she began to scrabble in her purse, producing a key as the doors opened. Trying to exit as far from him as possible she knocked her elbow against the jamb, dropping the key, which went tinkling into the crack between the elevator and the landing. She froze, then desperately bent to try to catch it. Peter leant over and held the door open.
"I'm afraid it's gone down the shaft. Too bad. Do you have a duplicate?"
Her face was a study in total desperation. "It's inside..."
"May I take a look at the door? I doubt the caretaker would still be up. You may be able to call a locksmith, but at this hour..."
She shrank from him, moved like an automaton, and indicated a door. He felt it, bent to peer into the crack. "Only the one latch? We may be lucky. I will need a few things in my apartment. Do you want to wait here, or maybe come along?"
She looked fearfully around, then made a small indication that he took for assent. At his door he kept talking. "Better to have at least two locks, the latch is so easy to spring if you know how. A deadlock like this, see? Then when you lose your keys you are really in trouble. So you need something big on the key ring. There, step inside... Ok, let me go first. You can sit down if you want. You don't feel like a drink? No problem, let me just put these down."
He came back from the small office to find her standing in the lobby, the door open behind her, tensed like a gazelle in the middle of a herd of lions.
"Now I need a knife, the kitchen scissors, and a piece of plastic.... Here, this will do. Do you see something I can decant the bleach into? Thanks. Now you cut a nice strip of plastic, like that, this bit of curve should help. And, no, I am not a burglar, but back in my misspent youth I was a Military Policeman, so I did learn some burglary tricks. And there we are. Shall we go and see... And better take my keys, don't you think?"
