“Mags midtown?” And under it, a single word, underlined.

“Nope.”

I set the page down on the table.

There was a fourth room drawn in the corner with no name in it at all, but the paper around that box was worn thin, rubbed back and forth with an eraser until a hole the size of a pea had come through the page.

The counter had been clean for ten minutes.

I kept wiping it anyway, one ear turned toward the fruit bowl where my phone sat, waiting for it to chime.