The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

A. M. Homes Reads Shirley Jackson

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

Mr. Summers and Mr. Adams

A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. The people had done it so many times that they only have listened to the directions. Most of them were quiet, wetting their lips, not looking around. Seems like there's no time at all between lotteries now, Mrs. Delacroix said in the back row.

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