A Death In The Building

Yesterday when I arrived home from work, for the first time in my four months here both of the front doors to our building were open.

There were five or six people waiting for the elevator, whereas normally there is only one...or two maximum. Most of the time I ascend alone.

When they all got off at the fourth floor, I could hear the bustle of many people in the far apartment. From a distance, I could hear the sound of muffled weeping.

I didn't think it was any of my business so I went on home and went to bed.


This morning, Daniel told me that a woman had died in our building.

I said, "I could have guessed as much from what I saw last night, but how did you find out?"

Apparently, he had seen a woman carrying a pillow in the elevator. He tried to make a joke about it, but the joke didn't go over very well. The carrier of the pillow explained what had happened, that the woman had died.

I don't know anything about the woman or even about proper ways to express condolences here. It's strange to think about. I have no real connection with the woman or her family except that I shared the same building, electricity, water, and sewage.

I assume I had seen her at least once or twice, but I wouldn't know if I had.