What are you doing here? This isn't your room. The southeastern corner wall has been replaced with huge windows, bathing the room in light, even now in the afternoon. Standing in that corner, you can see the snaking trainline as it dips south, the haze over the distant lake, the bloom of the city. You put these windows in. This was the room you slept in when you first moved in. Its walls were the most eaten away by weather, but you loved the view. You shiver remembering those first nights, wind roaring through the gaping corner.