The air is hot and still as a man with a cello strapped to his back steps into a lobby where cracks meander across the vaulted ceiling and several of the light bulbs need replacing.
Up ahead, light spills from a waiting elevator car. A hand holds open one of the doors; its owner smiles and says: “Be careful. Watch your step down.” The gold-and-burgundy interior brings to mind a box seat at the opera.
