She hated the row of key-and-mail boxes on the wall, with the bell buttons above each apartment number. She hated the jangling of the hall telephone, the scurrying to answer, the prodding of whichever bell button would summon the tenant asked for by the caller.

It would take a few more beers, but when the liquid courage kicked in, his wobbly legs were unable to keep pace with the fleetfooted waitress, who rolled her eyes, smiling, and finally twirled away.

There was a roar of bravoes rang through the house; Pen bellowing with the loudest.

the normal applauseless life of us all