There was a loud smack somewhere nearby -- and the stasis was broken -- the young man looked up at the window, and Officer Garrity realized that his face was pressed against the glass. He backed away, rubbing his nose and shaking his head. The young man came to the door, and Garrity saw the young woman laughing in the backgound, clutching her knees. As soon as the door slid open Garrity coughed and tried to find something to say. "Sorry -- I'm -- um -- ul --" He fumbled.
The young man smiled. He was tall but very thin, more of a boy really, probably half Garrity's age. But there seemed to be something almost almost fatherly about the way he put he put his arm around the policeman's shoulders, and gently led him into the apartment.
Garrity was surprised to find that he was shaking, and tears were streaming down his face. He was on the couch beside the girl. She was tiny and pale, maybe 17 or 18, patting his palm and regarding him with large and tender eyes. The boy was drawing the curtain. Garrity buried his face in his hands.