There are places we’re never meant to stay — stairwells, corridors, thresholds between here and there. They exist only to move us along, not to hold us. And yet, now and then, life ignores the design and places something meaningful right in the middle of our forward motion.

We were supposed to meet another writers’ group downtown. One of those gatherings where notebooks come out, coffee is poured, and everyone pretends they aren’t quietly hoping their words will land somewhere beyond the room. Writers are like that. We show up to share, but we also show up to be seen — to feel that something inside us has reached another human being and stayed there, if only briefly.

Dave and I arrived early and met Noelle at the main level of one of the high-rise...

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