Kristi’s never understood the way slow-motion works in movies. Important things happen gracefully, with panning and time for consideration.

For her, it’s just the opposite. Things happen instantly, and thinking back she remembers before and after, but not while. Her brain shuts its eyes at the scary part.

Which is why, trying to remember it, she gets only a few sharp images: her blouse brushing the door, the pull as it snagged the loose latchplate screw. Annoyance as she pivoted around it. Silence. Looking up, sudden horror, seeing Victor, knowing exactly where the grape juice in her other hand had gone.