“The apartment isn’t much, stiff wallpaper frayed along the stairwell where hands have passed over it during every ascent and descent since its erection in the fifties, rips visible under the pale spark of a grimy lamp that hangs in the corridor, always rocking with a steady creak-pop-creak, though I’ve never felt a breeze in this portion of the complex and the fixture is too high to touch, even with a broom. I know, I’ve tried. Maybe the building rests on unsteady ground. Or maybe a breeze…”