“Great.” She unlatched the screen door and opened it, reaching for the sack.

Alan stepped into the foyer and handed it to her. “There’s cream and sugar in there,” he said. “Lots—don’t know how you folks take it, so I just figured better sure than miserable, better to err on the side of caution. Wow, look at this, your place has a completely different layout from mine. I think they were built at the same time, I mean, they look a lot alike. I don’t really know much about architecture, but they really do seem the same, don’t they, from the outside? But look at this! In my place, I’ve got a long corridor before you get to the living room, but your place is all open. I wonder if it was built that way, or if someone did that later. Do you know?”

“No,” she said, hefting the sack.

“Well, I’ll just have a seat while you get your roommates up, all right? Then we can all have a nice cup of coffee and a chat and get to know each other.”

She dithered for a moment, then stepped back toward the kitchen and the stairwell. Alan nodded and took a little tour of the living room. There was a very nice media totem, endless shelves of DVDs and videos, including a good selection of Chinese kung-fu VCDs and black and white comedies. There was a stack of guitar magazines on the battered coffee table, and a cozy sofa with an afghan folded neatly on one arm. Good kids, he could tell that just by looking at their possessions.

Not very security-conscious, though. She should have either kicked him out or dragged him around the house while she got her roomies out of bed. He thought about slipping some VCDs into his pocket and returning them later, just to make the point, but decided it would be getting off on the wrong foot.

She returned a moment later, wearing a fuzzy yellow robe whose belt and seams were gray with grime and wear. “They’re coming down,” she said.

“Terrific!” Alan said, and planted himself on the sofa. “How about that coffee, hey?”

She shook her head, smiled a little, and retrieved a coffee for him. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Nope,” Alan said. “The Greek makes it just the way I like it. Black and strong and aromatic. Try some before you add anything—it’s really fantastic. One of the best things about the neighborhood, if you ask me.”

Another young woman, rail-thin with a shaved head, baggy jeans, and a 

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