We walked back up the spiral staircase to the hall upstairs. Marcia was there, viciously sweeping the pristine-looking floor. I stopped, blinking. I hadn’t realized she wasn’t downstairs with the rest of us. In the crowd, it had been hard to see who was and wasn’t there. “Marcia?” She jumped, expression seeming oddly mired between guilt and terror as she whipped around to face us.
