After his father's funeral, Leon found a notebook full of apartment numbers followed by small circles. He feared it recorded debts. His father had spent years visiting neighbors after supper and had never explained what he collected.
The dates matched the winter when the lift failed repeatedly. Beside some numbers were notes about shopping, batteries or a loose latch. The circles marked windows visible from the courtyard. If an expected light was absent, his father went upstairs to ask whether anything was needed.
Leon recognized one apartment as his own. On an evening when he remembered ignoring his father's call, the notebook recorded only: kitchen light on. No complaint followed. His father had continued to the next stairwell.
Leon did not continue the private rounds without asking the residents. Several wanted a shared phone list instead. He helped them make one, leaving everyone free to opt out. The notebook went into a drawer at home. Its final page remained blank, but the habit behind it found a form that belonged to the people still living there.