
David Rabe Reads John Updike
The New Yorker: Fiction
The Little Houses of Hayesville
Faucet's old street had a barrenness that made the houses, some frame, some brick appear exposed and shabby. The cement retaining wall had developed bulges and cracks since he was a child. Wilma Anna Emelfoss lived next door to Faucet; she wore cotton house dresses with buttoned down front. At Halloween, she turned off all her lights and wouldn't come to the door when children rang the bell in their costumes. He remembered the stiflingly rich scent of pine sap and the musty attic aura of antique tree ornaments.
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