You're pretty sure you know the right door so you go to the dumpster beside it

"That one," you whisper to yourself, your voice sounding loud. You hesitate in the spotlight of the overhead lamp, listening for anyone else. After a long moment you relax and head toward the door you're certain belongs to your apartment building.

Rather than waste time by going to the door - Jacob didn't open it last time, so why would he this time? - you go straight to the dumpster, grimacing at the smell as you try futilely to walk quietly.

The dumpster is taller than you are, and closed, so you stop and climb the side, straining to push up the heavy lid.

With your legs straining, and your feet shuffling to not lose their place, you wish you'd thought to take off the high-heels first, but with the lid half-open it's too late now. Your body glistens, your sweat reflecting the nearby lamps as you push upward. At long last the lid reaches its apex, and slips from your grip.

You cringe, afraid that it'll come down on you, but instead it does something just as bad, hitting the wall behind with a resounding clang.

"Whuzzat?" a voice calls.

"You hear that?" Another responds.

You look around frantically, unable to tell where the voices came from. Was that the men who'd passed before, or someone else?

Almost without thinking you tip yourself over the edge of the dumpster without even looking to see what's inside.

"I think it was over hear," a voice says just at you topple in.