I drive by these apartments almost every day. Recently, everyone moved out. No one moved in. I can’t tell yet if the place is going to be knocked down or remodeled or left to fall in on itself.

At least a couple of the screen doors are bright blue. And a strand of Christmas lights loop along the balcony railing. I assume the bathrooms have old, cracked sinks, the floors are warped, the outlets are too few, the cockroaches are plentiful, and during the winter storm of 2021, the ice coated the inside of the windows.

I imagined a down-and-out poet lived upstairs. Late at night the poet and their friends would hang out on that balcony, drinking whiskey, arguing love and politics, or sit cross-legged on the floor with a Ouija board, laughing about death and each other.

It was probably never like that.

But every time I drove by, I glanced its way. It seemed like a place for folks on the way up or on the way down. I stopped the other day to snap this picture in case it is torn down. Why do I like it so much? It’s a mess. Mice probably scuttled in the cabinets. The pipes probably shuddered with each use. The neighbors were probably surly and loud.

Are there homes in your neighborhood that draw your eye? Many houses and apartments I can’t recall once they’re out of sight. Some seem aggressively boring. Some pretty and stuffed with money. But a few say, a story happens here.

Of course, a story happens everywhere from the McMansions to the bungalows. I’m sure shocking things happen in places I pay no attention to whatsoever.

Can you think of a house or building that piques your curiosity? Any place that, however briefly, makes you sad when you see it torn down?

I’m glad I stopped to take a picture of this one. And one day, I’ll probably put it in a story.

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Thanks for reading.

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