Greta half fell, half stumbled into the lobby, hugging herself as she became more aware of her condition. Actually, that was a lie. She had noticed the way she looked earlier, when a street begger offered her a blanket which she declined. Beet red, she continued on. Who knew what kind of lice would be in the old woolen thing? She stopped to take a rest, something she frequently did on the way to the apartments, closing her eyes and taking slightly shallow breaths. One, two, three.
