The young couple was to leave the hotel Monday morning, following the weekend and their first-ever trip to the city. They had both been working many hours at their jobs and felt they needed to get away for some excitement.

They weren’t disappointed with New York City, which had a gritty, dark allure they both found intoxicating. It was quite a departure from the small, conservative Ohio town they lived in.

The husband spent considerable time figuring where they’d stay, which had to be a spot in the thick of it all. No Holiday Inn would do. They knew the time had come to start a family and that the trip might be the last they’d have alone for quite a while, so they were determined to find a hotel with a flavor all its own, just to add to the experience.

The Gershwin, near the Flatiron Building, provided the edgy ambience they sought. Their cab driver hastily made a right turn onto 27th Avenue that Friday morning, and before they were even able to orient themselves, the taxi came to a halt before the hotel’s blood-red façade.

The couple had no knowledge of art or whose work was showcased all over the lobby walls, only that the pieces were avant-garde in style, which made the hotel seem that much more hip to them.

They stayed on the fifth of the six floors in a room at the front of the hotel, toward the street. There was only one window in the room, which faced an apartment building to the left of the hotel.

Their weekend flew by. The couple was successful in making it to all of spots on their must-see list. And they devoured as much food and drink as was in their budget to do.

The husband wasn’t dreaming on the morning of their flight home. The low whimpers he thought he heard were real, and they came from the hotel’s hallway. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 5:13 a.m., and there wasn’t even a hint yet of daylight.

He lied there listening. The wife didn’t stir. He heard the sounds again. They were soft crying sounds, a man’s voice, but no words, and the sounds seemed like they were coming from right outside their door, perhaps from across the hall.

He felt his wife’s body twitch, and then lie still, as if she was trying to focus on whether she really did hear a sound.

The husband gently touched her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered. “Someone’s out there. Listen.”

There was a thump in the hall, though it was difficult to tell what caused it, then the crying sounds grew louder, almost mournful. The husband and wife didn’t move in their bed; they only listened.

The man seemed to be moving down the hallway, away from their door, feet stomping, still crying, and the sounds seemed to be getting more desperate.

Suddenly, the man began to shriek, which were incoherent attempts to yell out someone’s name, and the piercing quality of the sounds greatly disturbed the couple.

There was silence for a brief moment, and then the stomping feet sounds and cries grew closer. The man was running down the hallway again in the direction of their room.

The husband and wife were frozen in fear and didn’t dare move, worrying that their rustling would be heard and only agitate the man further.

Suddenly, there was a violent bang against their door, as if a body was thrown against it. Then, as quickly as the cries intensified, they softened to the low whimpers that woke them. And then nothing. It was silent.

The couple held on tightly to each other, their imaginations running wild wondering what was wrong with the man. A lover’s quarrel? Sickness? They reasoned it must be bad drugs to make a person behave in such a way.

Minutes later, they heard the man’s cries again, only they had turned into blood-curdling screams, and they were coming from the street.

By this time, a light rain had started to fall and there was faint, gray light coming in through the window curtains.

In the husband’s mind he could see the man standing in the street – right in the middle of it – alone, arms outstretched, wailing like a wild animal up to the sky. There was no other sound.

Where was the city, he wondered, and why wasn’t anyone helping or stopping the man? There were millions of people in such a place, yet all he could hear was the man’s screams and the beating of their own hearts.

Finally, the man was silent, and the husband and wife drifted back to sleep.