Daisy had just stepped into the elevator, anticipating another adventure, when the sound of frustration -- and the rattle of metal -- caught her attention.
As casually as she could manage, she sauntered out of the elevator and toward the mailboxes, as if that was her original destination; and upon making eye contact with the young woman, she smiled crookedly.
"I hate the mailboxes here." She lifted her right hand and pointed at the side of her index finger. "I'm pretty sure I'm blistering from the way I have to wrench my key. Need help?"