The ground floor was a bakery, warm with the scent of sourdough and cinnamon. Mrs. Gable started her days at 4 a.m., kneading dough while the city slept.
The third floor belonged to Lila, a night-shift nurse who hung her scrubs on the balcony rail and watered a single fern named Hector. She slept through the bakery’s morning rush, dreaming of quieter emergencies. four storey building
The second floor was a law office, quiet and stern. Mr. Hargrove rarely smiled, but he kept the rent paid for the three floors above him. The ground floor was a bakery, warm with
It stood at the corner of Maple and Second, unremarkable to most—a four storey building with peeling cream paint and windows that blinked like tired eyes. But each floor held a different life. The third floor belonged to Lila, a night-shift