He shot into the apartment as if trying to not give her time to change her mind and close the door in his face. Once inside, he trotted to the kitchen at a more leisurely pace, stood in front of the fridge, and meowed up at it.

Susanne followed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to have human food.” Not that there was much in her fridge. She opened it and found a package of sliced turkey breast behind two cups of yogurt. “This should be safe, right?”

“Meow.”

“Yeah, of course you’d say that.” She sliced up a bit of turkey breast, put it on a plate, and slid it in front of him. As an afterthought, she added a bowl of water. “Don’t get used to it. It’s just this once, as an apology for the lipstick thing.”

As she watched him gobble up the meat, the doorbell rang.

Maybe her neighbor, Muesli’s owner, was looking for her cat.

She went to the door and peered through the peephole, but the hallway beyond was empty, so she pressed the button for the intercom. “Yes?”

Only silence answered.

Just as Susanne was about to storm back into the kitchen, thinking it was some stupid practical joke, a female someone cleared her throat.

“It’s…it’s me. Anja.”

She didn’t need to add that. Susanne would recognize her voice anytime, anywhere. Adrenaline spiked through her. “What’s wrong? I just talked to Uncle Nobert. He’s not doing worse, is he?”

“I talked to him too. He’s fine. Can I come in? I think we need to talk.”

The panic Susanne felt at that was only slightly less than when she’d thought something might be wrong with her uncle. She hesitated.

“What, you don’t think we’re capable of talking without tearing each other’s clothes off?” Anja’s chuckle sounded a little forced.

Susanne groaned. “Don’t give me any ideas,” she muttered under her breath. “Of course we are. Come on in.” She pressed the buzzer and opened her apartment door, clinging to it with one hand.

Anja’s steps approached slowly. She paused and looked at Susanne from the other side of the doorway. Her face was pale, and her eyes held that same look she had sported when she had taken that first step up on the observation tower—scared and not sure she would ever make it to the top.

Susanne’s throat tightened. Suddenly, the last thing on her mind was ripping her clothes off, but God, she wanted to hold her. She opened the door wider. “Come in.” She led the way into the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch.

Anja stared at her hands. For someone who had come to talk, she was now very silent.

“Are you okay?” Susanne asked and then instantly felt stupid. Does she look like she’s okay?