Sometimes when he left my apartment, I would stand at the door and watch him walk down the metal stairs. He would pause on the landing, lean out, and look over the edge of the railing before continuing his descent.
After I'd watched him do it a half dozen times, I called out to him, “why do you do that?”
He looked up at me, standing in the doorway, from where he stood on the landing. “Do what?”
“Why do you look over the edge?”
He paused, then said, "Because I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
That made me smile, just that once.