We called them doorman buildings. We dreamed of them, but they was always out of reach. No way you get past the lobby, let alone onto them high floors where the really rich people live.

The blackout changed all that. Them doormen scattered like cockroaches, left their lobbies wide open. We just strolled right in like we owned the place. I pushed the highest number in the elevator. Start at the top, work my way down.

You’d  think them rich folks have things worth stealing, but you’d be wrong. What fence in his right mind takes antiques or oil paintings?