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mail will I get today. When I get to the most bottom step, I notice that someone is entering the
building. The first-floor man. Think of the most mysterious person you've ever known in your life;
the first-floor man is at least two to three times more mysterious than that person. Not because he
has the look of a mysterious man; tall, skinny, always wearing a long dark coat, but because he
never speaks. In fact the only time I hear him speak are in my dreams. Otherwise, he's just another
character without a proper noun.

He is also in the mood for mail-checking, and when I take a glance at his preferred type of junk
mail, I notice he is holding some kind of science magazine. One of the taglines is "The secret to
eternal life is perfect cell regeneration."

He finishes before me and then disappears. Not a moment later, another tenant is attempting to
open the stubborn front building door with too many grocery bags in his hands. I help him open the
door, but I don't ask if he needs help with the bags. Anyone attempting to do what he is doing must
also believe he can achieve the impossible without any help from anyone else.

I'm back at my door and I can hear the phone ringing on the other side. Who is it now. I debate
whether I should just let it ring or if I should answer it. Sarcastically, I think to myself, "but what if
it's Kathleen, she may need my help." She hasn't spoken to me in a while, and I've never felt so
free.

I decide to answer the phone, and after I say "Hello," on the other side of the phone is a soft-spoken
voice of a young girl. I find out it's Sarah, but what I can't figure out while I'm talking to her is how
she knows my phone number. "Mom told me to call you if she doesn't answer her phone." Fucking
emergency contact forms.

I must have told Lynne my phone number and then forgotten about it. "Why are you calling me?"
That's what I would have asked her if I didn't have a soft spot for children. "How are you?" She
tells me that she is good today. I ask about David, he is good as well but misses his toys. She asks
me if I could see if her mother was home, and because she is such a little princess, I do.

Lynne opens her door and I tell her that I have her daughter on my phone. After she expresses a
look of someone who has made a mistake, we go back into my apartment and she begins to talk to
her daughter. The conversation that they have, or at least the words that come out of Lynne's
mouth, they imply that Sarah simply missed her mother and wanted to hear her voice.

While they are talking, I notice that Lynne unknowingly brought along a book of some sort, except
this book seems to be overly designed yet has no title whatsoever. I also notice that it has some
kind of belt around it, or perhaps a locking device. What kind of an author would write a book in
which they do not want you to read the contents inside? Or at least want you to struggle a little bit
before you finally manage to open it? I'm actually still sitting here baffled by the lack of no title.

When she hangs up the phone, I ask her what book that is, and she laughs. I must be missing
something. She tells me that it's not a book, and before she finishes I realize it's her diary. I forgot
people still keep those. Whenever I think of a diary I picture it being owned by a teenage girl who
has a hard time controlling her hormones, but I suppose even adults of either gender need a way to