Mira knew everything about him except his name. He lived one floor above her, in apartment 4C, and every morning at exactly 6:17 a.m., his boots hit the staircase with rhythmic thuds that made her heart lurch. He never took the elevator. She heard the heavy shuffle of his steps through the thin ceiling. It used to annoy her. Until she noticed how precise the rhythm was. Until she saw him one evening in the hallway and felt the air freeze in her lungs. His shoulders had filled the doorway like a ...