I always wonder about those sudden, stomach hollowing moments of bleak gut warning you get sometimes. Like when you’re about to go through a normal doorway at night that youve wqlked through a thousand times, but this time the lighting of the place just seems off, flat and cold and uncaring, and an insistent sickly tickle at the base of your spine whispers that something horrible will happen to you if you go through that door tonight. Even describing the feeling sends shivers down my back.

I wonder if she had a moment like that the last time she went underground, the sudden certainty, chilling in it’s stark plainness, that she was going to die down there.