by Jeff Fleischer
Every few nights, around half past three, the buzzer for our condo sounds. Always just once, and I never answer. I never know who it is.
Our bedroom doesn’t face the street, and we’re too high up to see the entranceway through the trees. Charlie just sleeps through it, but it still gets me out of bed each time, alert just in case. I don’t know if a neighbor has an overnight guest, or whether it’s a prank by some passerby. Or even if the visitor ever enters the building.
But I never go back to sleep on those nights. I always sit up worrying that someone has buzzed them in, and they’re roaming our halls in the early hours, just waiting for me to let down my guard.
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