Anna Leventhal, pictured. Photograph by Patrick Alonso.
I had lived in the apartment for about a month when there was a knock on the door.
You probably shouldn’t answer that, my roommate said. But I was halfway there. They would have already heard my footsteps.
At the door was a very short woman in overalls and a blue T-shirt.
Can I use your phone? she said. I handed her my cell and pressed my foot down on the cat as he tried to slip out the door.
Sorry, I said to the woman. She stared at me, saying nothing, holding the phone to her head. She didn’t seem to have dialed, but then, I was distracted. She shook her head and handed me the phone, looking around nervously. She appeared to be distraught, or high. The cat struggled out ...