“I will call her.”

By six o’clock, the streetlights were flickering on along my old block.

Greg, my neighbor from across the hall, was holding the heavy security door open with his shoulder while I carried the final small box of kitchen items down the concrete steps.

“That is the last of it,” Greg said, lifting the box from my arms and fitting it into the crowded trunk of my sedan.

“The apartment looks completely empty up there.”