Zoe spent her days in an office, and by the end of the week she sometimes felt that she had forgotten what anything alive looked like. So she took a beekeeping course, and in the spring she carried two beehives up to the roof of her apartment building. The first summer was a disappointment. The bees made very little honey, and in July a swarm left one of the hives and settled on a neighbor's balcony. Mr. Brandt, who lived downstairs and was afraid of bees, complained to everyone in the building, including the mailman.
Zoe learned patience the slow way. She learned to use smoke, to keep her hands calm and her movements small, and to sit for a long time watching the entrance of the hive, where the bees came and went like tiny passengers. In the autumn she knocked on Mr. Brandt's door and gave him a jar of honey. He took it with the caution of a man handling a small animal. It tasted of the linden trees on their street. The next summer he climbed the stairs to the roof, a little pale, with a bucket of water for the hives.