The click of the lock echoes in the corridor. I pull my key away thinking that I have not yet eaten and have left the music on. Stepping out into the springtime air I can hear the soprano begin her song from deep within my apartment. A few steps down the road her voice has faded completely, but, by memory, it continues on. I realize then that I am not the least bit hungry.
A few of the neighborhood children stare at me as I walk up Cordon Road.
I stare back for a little while, but no one balks.