I took this picture of the Terminal Hotel building in Coney Island in the spring of 2010. It was an actual hotel until the 1970s. Growing up, I was always in love with the signs and the boarded-up windows that remained (the upper floors were abandoned and the first floor was occupied by a series of restaurants). There was a bad fire in the building a few months ago, and it was demolished. The last story in my new book, “Here Come the Bells,” takes place at some mythical version of the Terminal (and takes its title from a Lou Reed song). I always looked at the place with wonder. I could go there and a whole story would just show up in my mind. That’s what I did with “Here Come the Bells.” I’m sad the building’s gone. I really loved it.