Over loudspeakers, the manager insists, “Floors four, five, and six: Come down to the main lobby for your COVID testing.” Announcement made so loudly that all conversation in the present and over phones is temporarily suspended, and he repeats: “Floors four, five, and six: Come down to the main lobby for your COVID testing.” And then, continues, “Floors seven and eight: Be prepared to leave your rooms for COVID testing.”

An intrusion into what is considered home by many, where many have already fallen to the virus and only recently has interest finally turned to slow its spread within the confined population: Residents of little means and often limited mobility, stacked on many floors within a structure. A little space to pass as home where intrusion can arrive at any time, either by person or over speaker.

“It’s a roof over my head,” said the woman. “I’ve never lived someplace that’s based on income,” she explained.

It’s where she’s stayed for several years, and she shared it’s since her only child’s life was taken, executed by a man with whom the woman had dispute: Eviction for being broke. Eternal hope for better days and resolution brought to a violent, eternal end.

“I took an officer,” the woman explained – of when she went to gather the few possessions that remained, of her only daughter. She took an officer because she was “Afraid he’d put his hands on me.” But the rental wasn’t in her name, and so she was denied both entry and collection.

“First time,” she said – of the loud announcements that intrude beneath the roof over her head, “Scared the heck outta me:”

“Floors four, five, and six: Come down to the main lobby for your COVID testing.”