My partner and I live in an apartment building on one of the West Village’s prettiest blocks. Next door is a very old single-family house.
One Sunday afternoon not so long ago, the lady of the house was standing on her stoop, looking perplexed. Her family had just returned from a weekend in the country.
“Did you notice that our front door was open all weekend?” she asked.
Steve replied that he hadn’t, and expressed his concern. “Was anything taken?”
“No, but it’s the strangest thing,” she said. There’s a Chinese takeout menu on every bed in the house.”
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment