Fiction | March 01, 1990

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Wally’s was the corner room; two rooms, in fact, counting the small bedroom, with a porch large enough for the two rocking chairs and a view of the old watch factory. He’d lived there twelve years, through two owners. With Joseph, the new landlord, he’d grown to a position of responsibility: in exchange for ten dollars weekly off the rent, he swept the halls and kept a set of keys in case any of the tenants lost theirs and needed to be let into their rooms. Joseph lived across town, and didn’t like to be called over for every little nuisance.


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