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“Hell, I can’t write. That’s just conversation. It makes the landlady feel better. What I need is a job, any kind of job.”
“Can’t you contribute twenty-five cents? Twenty-five cents wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Honey, I need the twenty-five cents more than Mr. Adams does.”
“Honor the dead, young man.”
“Why not honor the living? I’m lonely and desperate and you look very lovely in your green dress.” She turned, walked out, walked down the hall, opened the door to her room, went in, closed the door, and I never saw her again.
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