Alice staggered off the bottom stair and opened the industrial door to the building lobby. She and Daisy, panting from their rigorous stair workout – running up and down the building’s nine stories four times in a row – emerged glowing, not just from sweat-soaked skin, but each from that inner victory light that comes with surviving torture. They took long pulls on their water bottles, and Alice cast a lusty look toward her favorite perch, the leather couch near the window, blissfully unoccupied at the moment. In the last few days, she’d spent so much time sitting there that Leo teased that her butt left an indentation. “Whoa! Whoa!”…