Jeanie was small and slight, her long pepper-gray hair pulled into a tight swirl above a wrinkled face. Alice had only ever seen her in the set of clothes she wore now: black polo neck, black jeans, and white apron. Jeanie worked in the dry cleaners on the ground floor. Alice had struck up a strange friendship with her over the last year, both lost souls. In the months following her unemployment, Alice had wandered the hallways and atrium of the apartment building fighting the urge to throw herself from the rooftop. She would circle until, more often than not, she ended up in the hot, crowded, and noisy launderette watching Chinese TV shows. She hadn’t understood a word of what was being said, but the stories of good and evil were easy to follow, and after a few weeks, Jeanie had sat with her, and their friendship grew. Jeanie’s lunch was always the same: steaming broth filled with noodles served in worn and chipped white bowls. After a month, she brought two bowls, and the women grew to rely upon each other, both alone and fending for themselves.