apartment

The weird thing is that recently I’ve found myself missing the smaller things: the gyil recordings she would play in her apartment, her super-throaty chuckle, and the wild stories she used to tell.

“An apartment in Saint Petersburg?” he said to his wife, incredulous.

He even installed a secret attic apartment at Ashton Place so that I might suffer in privacy.

“And their apartments! They were so tiny and depressing! Why they choose to live there is beyond me.”

Cars in their assigned parking spots; a stray cat, the one Michael had secretly named Tuxedo, slinking around the bushes; Mr. Mosley, the maintenance man, hefting a can of paint toward a vacant apartment.