Jake glared at me, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles went white.

“You need to mind your own business and get back in your apartment,” he hissed.

Mr. Alvarez rubbed his sore wrist, slowly backing deeper into the safety of his apartment.

Another door clicked open across the hall, the sound sharp in the tense silence.

Mrs. Patterson stuck her head out, her gray hair wrapped tightly in pink plastic rollers.

“I heard every single word of that,” she said, her voice sharp as a razor.

“Go back inside, lady,” Jake barked, pointing a finger at her.

“Don’t you dare talk to her that way in my building,” Carl said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

Carl stepped directly into Jake’s path.

Though Carl was older, he carried the hard strength of a man who had worked these buildings with his hands for thirty years.

Jake took a half-step backward, his heel catching on the edge of Mr. Alvarez’s doormat.

“You’re trespassing, Jake,” Carl told him.

“We’ll see about that,” Jake muttered, though he didn’t make a move toward Carl.