Eighteen Steps

By Joy Wallace

Rainy Manhattan afternoons bored her; the radio sounded childish, and TV just wasn't up to standard. She shifted the cards, and thrust them aside suddenly. What the hell was there to do on a rainy afternoon in Manhattan. She went to the little table in the kitchenette and poured herself another drink. She glanced apprehensively at the tall empty space above the residue. Dammit: Almost gone! And she couldn't afford another bottle until Tuesday. But maybe some roomer would come in and pay the rent, and then she could borrow it; and if Mr. Cohen came around collecting unexpectedly, she could make up some story. Nobody would be apt to check on it. Sho ran thr cugh the list of tenants quickly, in her mind. Everyone was paid,up for the week, except that old bum in "23"; and Mr. Cohen was going to throw him out anyway. Everybody upstairs, and then, of course the two in the basement; they were paid up in advanco. "The-two-in-the-basement", as she always thought of them; those creepy characters, who lived together down there, and probably did unspeakable things at night, when they were al one together. Sho had even heard them laughing at times; enjoying their perversion, wallowing in it. Thelma Winters, Superintendent at 3460 West 21st street, shook her head and shuddered. Horrible, the thought of those two women, living together, like a decent married couple. Bums, that's what they wero. Bums, and freaks, and even worse. Indulging in lewd perversion, during the night; and then, in the morning, that tall one, strutting off to a good-paying job in an office somewhere, Just as if she were a normal, intelligent a normal, intelligent girl. The ima Winters poured herself another drink, and flipped on the radio.

She glanced at the phone. Maybe she could call John at work, in spite of what he had told her. She could make up a story about being ill, or something. It might sound logical. He hadn't been to see her in three days, and

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