He has been awake for an hour, and there is no point pretending he will fall asleep. The air conditioner died after lunch, after a short rattle and a long sigh. He opened the window, and the warm air outside has not moved since. Bochorno, the locals here have been calling it. He went down to the reception in the afternoon after the unit stopped working. The lift was out of service. A yellow paper sign was taped to the bra...

The metro empties me onto the street. The evening is warm, the light golden. A man is walking behind me. He has been there since the metro stairs. His footsteps are heavier than mine, and the distance between us is closing. I shift my bag and walk faster. My hand goes into my bag, finds my keys. I hold them between my fingers and walk faster. I don't turn around. I turn the corner onto our street. His footsteps turn the c...

She steps in barefoot, carrying her shoes and a glass of white wine she doesn’t remember picking up. She presses thirty-seven. The elevator reeks of bleach and somebody else’s perfume. In the light up there, she looks fifteen years older than she did at lunch. Four hours of behavioral economists agreeing with one another and patting one another on the back about it. Her feet are ruined. The wine is warm. She drinks the wi...