Her neighborhood was the kind of place that felt frozen in time, not in a bad way, just... settled.
The houses were tall and narrow, packed tight against each other in long rows of brick and brownstone.
Most were three or four stories, with steep stone steps leading up to front doors painted in faded colors—dark green, burgundy, navy blue.
Small iron railings lined the stoops, and every few houses, there was a narrow alley cutting between buildings, just wide enough for two people to walk through.
The streetlights were old-fashioned, casting pale yellow circles of light onto the cracked sidewalks below.
Between them, shadows pooled thick and dark, and the alleys looked even darker—black gaps that seemed to swallow sound.
A few buildings had fire escapes zigzagging down their fronts, the metal painted black and streaked with rust.
Some had window boxes with flowers that had seen better days. Others had curtains drawn tight, shutting out the world.
