Finding the place wasn’t difficult, if you knew the right people. The location was strange, sure. But it made sense in its own way ― a neighborhood centrally located but basically unremarkable, with no sizeable parks or significant landmarks to attract any outsiders. There was a grand old church mid-block, then a squat apartment building with no windows on the first floor. On the end of this building, near the subway entrance, was the little iron door that led to the Exchange of Regrets.