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1 People Live Here Alone, she sleeps in this room. Thirty years since Tony died and his produce apron still hangs in the closet. We hunt ghosts seeping out from mortar between the chimney-brick. On Division Street, her boy Jerry died in a red car. She walks that route with Louise sometimes. She insists it is bad luck to match the color of your house to the color of the house you were born in. Bad luck to go to sleep stormy. The windows are open the morning she first calls me Jerry and living, she says, is a person at a time. People gathered here after Jerry died and the laurel collected a thin layer of dust. 1 Just wait until after the next rain, she said, things will look the way they look again. ...

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