I’m standing with Katie in the vestibule of our building, between the outer door, which opens out on the steps leading down the sidewalk, and the inner door, which leads to the stairs inside up to our apartment. The outside door swings in, and I’m carrying a large bag of groceries, so it’s easier to wait while she opens the inner door and goes in, then I can step in a little further, shut the outer door behind me, and go upstairs.
“Do you ever worry about opening the inner door with the outer door open?” I ask her as she pushes her key into the lock.
“Actually, it was really freaking me out that you were just holding it open like that,” she replies, with a look of mild panic.
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