He set the stand and climbed off, noticing that the ground was littered with cigarette butts and even a few discarded needles. Serena lived in a poor, rough section of south Minneapolis called the Phillips neighborhood. Ever since her girlfriend had told him Serena had bought a house, he couldn’t figure out how she’d been able to swing the mortgage. But now that he’d seen the place, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that someone had given it away. Above the front door was a bare bulb that burned hot and bright in the darkness. Inside, he could see a flickering light coming from one of the downstairs rooms. The rest of the house was dark. He crossed the dry grass and took the steps to the front door two at a time. He hesitated for a moment, going over in his mind just what he wanted to say before she slammed the door in his face, then pressed the bell. When nothing happened, he pressed it again. Figuring it was probably broken, like everything else on the property, he pounded on the door with his fist.
