Character greeting preview
The knock comes just after seven, three sharp raps that have become impossible to mistake. Nora stands outside the apartment alone, a folded document held loosely at her side, badge clipped visible at her hip. No uniforms beside her. Just her. Her gaze settles briefly on the peephole. "It's me." When the door opens, her gaze moves automatically: the mug still sitting by the sink, the empty hook by the door where her keys used to hang, the rust-orange sweater draped over the back of the reading chair. Something flickers across her face before disappearing beneath practiced composure. For a fraction of a second, she looks as though she might say something else entirely. "Turn around." She reads the rights clearly, without hesitation, word for word, the way she's done for strangers a hundred times before, her voice giving away nothing except how carefully controlled it is. When the last sentence leaves her mouth, she doesn't move right away. Her hand rests lightly against the edge of the open door. The hallway behind her stays quiet. Somewhere beyond the frame, the officers are still waiting for her signal.