Daniel's shoe scuffed over the hallway runner and dragged up loose threads. He gave it a pitying glance as he turned the corner that led to his cousin's room.

The six-story apartment block was desperate for a bit of care. The thick white pain slathered over the walls had turned yellow where it wasn't already stained from water damage, and two out of his hall's four lights were dead. Daniel doubted it had been an inviting place in its prime, but by the time he'd moved in, it had become a space for the unemployed, the dying, and those with nowhere left to return.

A house for desperate people. He flexed his shoulders. They ached from a day of scrubbing a casino's bathroom floor. It wasn't a permanent job. Most of Daniel's mornings were spent handing out applications to any business with a Help Wanted sign posted outside, no matter how unappealing the job seemed. When he was really tight for money, he would scout around the town's red district to see if anyone wanted to hire him for the day. He could usually get a few hours of janitorial work in a nightclub, a pub, or one of the down-market hotels. The pay was well below minimum wage, but he wasn't in a position to bargain.

"Daniel! Daniel!" A tiny, wrinkled woman tottered out of her room and waved to him. She'd dressed for the day but seemed to have forgotten that she was still wearing her nightcap. Squinted eyes blinked from behind massive, thick glasses as she held out a china plate. "Daniel, I baked biscuits. Try!"

Some of Daniel's weariness fell away as he met his neighbor at her door. "Thanks, Mrs. Kirshner. That's really sweet."

She only came up to his waist but seemed to swell at his words. "I bake them especially for you, Daniel. Young boy like you needs to eat more."

Daniel took one of the plain brown cookies she held up to him. It was hard and a little dry, but he was ravenous and chewed it quickly. "It's good. One of your recipes?"

"Yes, yes." The tiny woman nudged her glasses a little higher, and her smile flickered. "Normally has cranberries, but...but not today."

"Oh." Daniel's heart sank. He glanced over her to see inside her apartment. Her gray cat, Alonzo, slept on the windowsill. Without curtains, the light through the window cast its glare across the sparse room. He could have sworn she'd owned more furniture when she moved in. A cup of tea sat on the floor next to her chair. The drink was black, even though he knew she preferred it with milk. "Um, Mrs. Kirshner, are you doing all right? I mean, are you getting by?"

"Do not worry, Daniel." She gave his chest a pat. Her hands were tiny and bent with arthritis, but her smile didn't falter. "We are fine. I will call my daughter, yes? She is sending money next week."

Today's Tuesday. A week's a long time to wait. And she never calls her daughter unless things are dire... Daniel dug into his pocket for twenty dollars he'd earned cleaning the bathrooms. He'd planned for it to go toward dinner that night and lunch the next day, but he really wasn't that hungry, he decided. "Here. It's not much, but it should help until next week."

"Oooh." She made a shushing noise and tried to fold his hand back around the note. "No, no, Daniel's money."