I stepped into the dark foyer, as I do every morning, though this was one of the last times. In no unfamiliar scene, a swarm of baby strollers blocked my path, as did a heavyset woman struggling to put down her young child as the carriage she held dangled precariously on the stair's edge. A tiny girl with wispy locks of blonde, the child looked up just as I was peering down, closely minding the obstacles in preparation for my ascent. Her eyes locked on mine for what must have been a split second too long because, without refrain or warning, she giggled (a little too sharply for the dreary dawn) and squealed "Daddy!" I looked behind, confused, only to find an empty doorway, and when I turned back the little creature was still staring and smiling, repeating, even after I walked briskly past: "Daddy!"
I ran.