Rooftop Garden in the Year of Drought

The tomato plant on the forty-eighth floor was the last one in Seokju Tower. Everyone in the building knew it. Most of them had knocked on the door at least once.

Three people had keys: the building super, a retired schoolteacher, and a twelve-year-old who had found hers in the elevator two weeks ago.

The super locked the door after the third visitor took more than they should have. 'Mercy without structure,' he said, 'is just another kind of loss.'

They wrote a compact: each family could take three tomatoes a week, one handful of greens. A waiting list formed. It was honoured without exception.