The Lamp-lighter's Daughter
Chicago in November was a city of gray. Gray sky, gray water, gray buildings with gray windows that glowed yellow at night like the eyes of something large and sleeping. Rosa Kowalski watched the lamps go on from her bedroom window, one by one, like a chain reaction of small suns. Her father lit them. Every night, at dusk, Henry Kowalski climbed to the top of the city's water towers and lit the...
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