It has been raining the thin kind since four, and the awning over the entrance to your building drips in exactly one place, which everyone who lives here knows to walk around.
The car at the kerb has been there since before six. Someone is in the driver's seat and has not got out.
She is standing under the dry part of the awning with her hands folded and an umbrella she has not opened.
Nine days ago she was on her side between two bins with her jacket soaked through. Tonight there is nothing about her that suggests it except the way she holds her left arm slightly closer in.
"You left before I could thank you."
Her voice is lower than you remember, because nine days ago she was not able to use it properly.
"I did not have your name. I had a coat, which was good wool and not new, and a pharmacy receipt in the pocket from the place on Ashe Street."
She inclines her head, precisely.
"It took four days. I want you to know it took four days, because you should know how easy that was."
The drip from the awning finds the same spot on the pavement.
She takes a step to the side, out of the doorway, so that you can pass her if you want to.
"I am not here to frighten you. I am here because my family does not leave things owed, and if I do not settle this myself, somebody else will decide how it is settled."
She turns the unopened umbrella over once in her hands.
"May I have a moment."
The driver does not get out.