She paused at his words, remaining completely silent where she stood. Without showing a reaction, she stepped forward, making as little noise as possible, and moved deeper into the shadows of the room. Now that her anger was fading, her energy went with it. She'd had a long, grueling day and it showed in the slump of her shoulders and the awkward clumsy steps that carried her to a far corner of the building. She arrived in total darkness. As if she didn't need light to know what she was reaching for, she picked up something from a crate. There was a soft scratching noise, then a match burst into flame. She bent to touch the match to a small lamp. The light of the lamp cast a tiny room into view. It was an old janitorial closet, without windows. She shut the door behind her and wadded a ragged old blandet at the bottom of the door to shut out as much of the light from her lamp as possible so she wouldn't be seen.<br/><br/>The room had been cleaned as much as possible. There was a small bundle of flowers, a few books, a crude bed of blankets in the corner. She dropped her pack to the ground, pulled a granola bar out of a wooden box on the floor, and flopped onto the bed. She wept while she ate, her tears rolling in silence. When she finally put the lamp out and rolled over to go to sleep, she was still crying.