One building. Thirty-six neighbours. Nobody is who they seem.

Nobody wants the red envelope. Watch it travel.

Dil: Someone has to take it. Nobody does.

Dil: Mr Gable. Mail for you.

Gable: No name. No stamp. No debt. Not mine.

Gable: Mayor Bloom! Official mail! Obviously yours!

Bloom: Then it is a ceremony! Captain Brickle, receive it!

Brickle: Halt! Whoever you are, take this and keep walking!

Dil: Excuse number three. They only get worse.

Seraphine: A blank label? I never touch anything without terms.

Corvin: Mur, a gift! No strings. Well, a few. Small print.

Dil: He is selling it. Of course he is.

Mur: A letter. For me? Nobody writes to me.

Mur: It has no name. Maybe it is Dil's.

Dil: Hm. Of course.

Dil: It came back. Like rent.