to a counter under a wall phone

The living room and dining area comprised one large space. The kitchen was open to this front room, but separated from it by a bar with two stools. Reynerd proceeded into the kitchen, to a counter under a wall phone, while Ethan perched on the edge of an armchair in the living room. The apartment was sparsely furnished. One sofa, one armchair, a coffee table, and a television set. The dining area contained a small table and two chairs. On the television, the MGM lion roared. The sound was low, the roar soft. On the walls were several framed photographs: large sixteen-by-twenty-inch, black-and-white art prints. Birds were the subject of every photo. Reynerd returned with a notepad and a pencil. “This do?” “Perfect,” Ethan said, accepting the items. Reynerd had a dispenser of Scotch tape, as well. “To fix the note on George’s door.” He put the tape on the coffee table. “Thanks,” Ethan said. “I like the photographs.” “Birds are all about being free,” Reynerd said. “I guess they are, aren’t they? The freedom of flight. You take the photos?” “No. I just collect.” In one of the prints, a flock of pigeons erupted in a swirl of feathered [28] frenzy from a cobblestone plaza in front of a backdrop of old European buildings. In another, geese flew in formation across a somber sky. Indicating the black-and-white movie on the TV, Reynerd said, “I was just getting some snacks for the show. You mind ... ?” “Huh? Oh, sure, I’m sorry, forget about me. I’ll jot this down and be gone.” In one of the pictures, the birds had flown directly at the photographer. The shot presented a close-up montage of overlapping wings, crying beaks, and beady black eyes.