Rolled up carpets propped in the corners cast long shadows, and forgotten trunks and suitcases littered the floor. A narrow walkway was improvised between the objects, a jumble of rusty bicycles, unsteady tables, and lamps that threatened to fall if you accidentally brushed them while going by. It took a conscious effort to breathe air that was as still and dead as most of the owners of these relics. The city had grown beyond them in its ceaseless way, and it was only through chance and inertia that they had avoided being put out at with the trash. The quiet of the basement was soothing to Sonia, and no one seemed to care to intrude on her habits…