Evanston — Nanawall

Elias had bought the house in November. For six months, the wall had stayed shut. It was a cold winter, the kind where the spray from the lake freezes on the piers. Elias would sit in his Eames chair with a cup of coffee and stare at the glass, watching the ice form on the outside pane. The mechanism looked fragile. It was a stack of panels, hinged and slim, and he was convinced that the sheer weight of the Illinois winter would shatter it. He kept the heavy curtains drawn, treating the Nanawall like a wound that needed a bandage.

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For a moment, Elias felt a spike of anxiety. The house was open. The security system was disarmed. A squirrel could run in. A raccoon. Rain. Elias had bought the house in November