Two sub-levels down, the little robot quietly raised his head. He counted the minutes. Kept an eye on the door. On the keypad, its digits a calculus red. Once convinced, he stretched his set of mis…

Before she left me for the Champs-Élysées, Helena had clocked in a good six months at an upper-east side dive colloquially known as Red Rum. Long after it was over between us, I’d find myself stopp…