I love evening light, Georgina thought as she stood on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Tenth Street looking up at the building across the way. Counting up nine floors, she tried to see into the windows of her own apartment.
About all she could make out were the silk drapes floating in the breeze. The light changed, halting the stream of traffic, and she stepped into the street.
As she entered the building, the light vanished into the white marble walls and floors of the lobby, and this cool oasis absorbed the cares of the day that had collected in her hair and clung to her arms and legs, cares that at times, even invaded her organs. Georgina listened to people’s pain for a living.
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