She Knocked on the Wrong Door With a Casserole—and Went Back the Next Sunday

number before knocking.

Rosa opened the door without her gloves. There were three chairs around the table. Her neighbor from downstairs was bringing bread, she explained. Nobody had prepared a grand meal. They sliced the oranges, made tea and argued gently about whether a jigsaw puzzle counted as a relaxing activity.

A month later, the hallway light was repaired. The brass numbers became perfectly easy to read. Lena still stopped at 4D most Sundays. When Rosa asked whether she missed having an excuse, Lena shook her head. She had needed a mistake to find the door. She did not need one to keep opening it.