Savior on the Storm
It smells. It smells everywhere. But not as much so in this stairway. God, it’s a stench of dead insects and sour cheese mixed with sauerkraut under an Arabic towel. This isn’t my league, I should go. Then I remember what’s up four floors – Zelda. I met her at the arch welding class on Greystone Ave. in the Bronx. She couldn’t have looked more than eighteen or nineteen but she tried to put it off like she was twenty five. She’s been nice to me, actually, since the class started last month....