Fresh from the shower, the melodious tones of his wind chimes caught Brock’s attention. He shuffled over to the stairwell. Originally, the brownstone had been divided up into flats; convenience prompted him to keep the front door buzzers on each level when he remodeled.
Of course, his sanity and temper changed the harsh buzz to this sound when premonitions of interruptions while he painted came to him.
He pushed the button. “Good Morning.”
“It’s Jon Taylor, your sister’s partner,” the answer clarified for him.
In case Brock had forgotten his name.
