The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Sherman Alexie Reads Raymond Carver

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

Come on Back to Bed, Honey. It's Just the Landlord

"It's mister ventereni, she says, the landlord. He said he was coming to paint the use early to day, before it gets too hot." "I look at him again and shrug. I'm smiling. What did he expect? My wife laughs," writes Ventereni. 'Maybe i'll call my girl friend first'

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