Until the policeman came she had been wandering the house, slightly bent, swaying and bumping. When the doorbell rang she held herself against a wall, slid one foot toward the stair and knew that all was faint and plastic.
“Coming!” she called and led herself through the kitchen which was surfaced with junk and no tomorrow. She gripped the doorframe and looked through at him. “Uniform,” she whispered, her fondness for sex objecting not at all to that. “Look at the badge,” she said a little louder, clarity intruding for a moment as she remembered badges, unifoms, youths in peaked caps with wolfish grins that ate her whole.
The doorbell rang again.
“Coming,” she mumbled, backing off and through and out into the garden, standing naked there while the winter air was freshening for snow.