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The rain is coming down hard. I pull my denim jacket closer, and cut down the alley. I try to look ahead while avoiding the eyes of the homeless scrambling to fix black trash bags over their few belongings. Times have changed so much, but it seems that humanity still turns a blind eye to their own suffering. I finally make it to the door of my building, and scramble to get my keys out of my pocket. Damn things are always getting caught up on something. I put the key in the lock and listen closely as the timblers turn. Inside there is a small verticle hallway, with nine flights of stairs. Apartment 22 was written in permanent marker on the door.