875 North Michigan Avenue was that narrow, black skyscraper, like a block of wood stuck at the intersection. The building was pitch black inside; the elevator doors opened onto glass windows, offering a view of Chicago spread out below. The wind was so strong the windows rattled, and the lake was a hazy, indistinct expanse of gray. A child was pressed against the window counting boats, but forgot to finish halfway through. The distant sound of traffic below drifted up like muffled thunder. Feeling dizzy after standing there for a while, I quickly found the elevator and went down.