Dominic had gone downstairs this afternoon to check on his mail from Saturday. Forgetting to check it yesterday had been really unlike him, and he couldn't fathom how he'd somehow let it slip from his mind. Maybe it was the current editorial he was working on that had distracted him the past couple of days, or the fact that he'd also secretly been working on a freelance article about altruistic archetypes in today's society.
Whichever the case, he'd collected the few envelopes that were inside his mailbox and planned on heading right back upstairs to open them (two of them were bills, but one was a letter from his sister Felicia, and he was eager to read it).
As he entered the lobby and started towards the elevator, he became acutely aware of another resident in the vicinity. Dominic halted in his tracks, as the man could only be speaking to him and happened to look a little frustrated. And, Dominic noted with interest, his accent clearly marked him as someone not native to the country. Dominic cast a friendly smile at the man, jogging his memory for an answer to the question. He passed Teresita Lane on his way to (and from) work, but had never actually gone down the street.
However, Dominic could at least give the man reasonable directions.
"I do, actually--I go past it almost every day. Do you know where Highland Drive is?"