Why doesn’t it come down? I want it to come down already, yelled Mr. Hoe in the lobby of the boarding house in Mamaia Sud, tapping his foot. But, kid, these poor people don’t have an elevator, mommy consoled him, spitting, to ward off the evil eye, for her son was so damn smart. Then let that ugly guy carry me up the stairs, Hoe decided. The ugly guy didn’t say no, but in the darkness between the …
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