There was a pale blue door.
Although this was not my home, I knew instinctively that the door would lead to a hall which would lead to a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room with security bars bolted across the windows.
The owner of this house would think it strange to find me here, wandering through his house, wearing his wrinkled pajamas. He might have to shoot me.
And yet, as I stepped out into the hall, I was not concerned.