Sisters, Daisy Johnson & Canto de Luna, La Carodilla

I live in an old apartment building. I don’t know how old exactly, and though the space I occupy within it is small, the house is thin enough to feel the unseen motion of others through the walls. Heels click back and forth above me, a garbage bin rattles behind the thud of a door, one neighbor turns on their faucet and it squeals through my own drain. …