[ Elizabeth has been running round and round, rushing through the hallways and checking about every door to find first, her family, then second, a way out. This isn't where she meant to go and being where she's not meant to be is always a recipe for trouble. She is on high alert, tightly wound, jumping at every shadow. If you forgot to lock your door, you might soon find a woman swinging it open with more might than her slight figure should have, and pointing a small gun about the room. An uncanny picture, considering her blue fuzzy sweater and comfortable sneakers, the very image of a suburban mom yelling harshly: ]
Elizabeth Jennings | The Americans
Hands where I can see them!