The door shut, he goes to the little kitchen -- the apartment is more or less three rooms, connected not with doors but with arches in the walls, so that from the entryway one can see both the bed (now adorned with cat) and the hot unit where he's putting a kettle on. It's nicer inside than the shabby facade of the building would have you expect; the paint is faded on the walls, and all the furniture is old, but the window in the main room is polished clean and even in the dark affords a view of the port district, the lights gleaming out to the horizon.