“Keep
it down,” Marcy’s hoarse voice came from inside.
“Push hard.”
Celia looked at Deb. “Let’s do it.”
“Are
you kidding?”
It seemed impossible to force the door open but Celia would
never desert her dear friend. “Push as hard as you can.”
Deb
raised a tired, white eyebrow that blended with the pale
skin of her creased forehead. She placed two palms against the door.
She left her apartment and started power walking along the outdoor block-long corridor. Once she reached the stairs, she’d still have to walk several minutes across the complex to Melvin’s office at the clubhouse. “My new friends are zany but are straight shooters and caring.
I love them,” Celia had explained to her daughter, Allison, during one of their many awkward calls.
“Zany? Does that mean loony tunes?” Allison didn’t call again fortwo weeks.