It was the night before our weekend trip to northern Massachusetts. Edmund and I cruised northbound on the interstate in my Ford sedan in the waning hours of a tired Friday afternoon. After getting off of the exit, we sleepily strolled passed a motley sort of convenience stores, gas stations, Chinese restaurants, bars, churches, and any kind of establishment to keep the temporary residents of this naval town occupied. Right onto Wormwood street then another right onto Falkland avenue brought us to a row of apartment buildings. In an endless row, these monolithic structures silhouetted against the dusky sky. It was hard to see the address numbers and we had to slow to a slug's pace in order for Edmund and I to read them. We finally came to the right door
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