I arrive at what could be best described as an unassuming brick building. So unassuming that I never noticed it before, even though I'd walked this sidewalk countless times. There were some plain labels, gold letters on black plates posted on the side edifice. and surely there was a Ball and Associates on the third story.
Inside, there is nothing that would be considered open to the public. This isn't the kind of place you'd show up to just shop around like a mall or a botique. No, everyone here was related to the work being done in this building, in one way or another. There's no elevator. I walk up the stairs wondering how they could not have an elevator? Is that even legal?
As I pass the second floor, I stop to glance around a bit. More offices that look like they belong to lawyers and therapist type people and accountants. And then I go up to the third floor, which happens to have the highest ceilings, and only one office. Ball and Associates. They take up the entire top floor. I can see through the blinds on the glass door, a secretary. I clear my throat before reaching out for the knob with my hand.