The Room. Melissa Checker

It begins around the time of Sukkoth. Brisk, clear autumn has already pushed aside summer's languid, pale afternoons. Leaves blow across the courtyard and phantom smells of wood burning hover in between the buildings and stick in the tiny patches of grass around sidewalk trees. In the studio apartment on the seventh floor of Building M, windows are cracked to let a rush of chilly air chase away the smell of fresh paint. Until late morning, sun reflects off the river and bombards the room's eastern window, bouncing…