The Neighbor on Elm Street
I've lived next door to the Mercers for thirty-two years. That means I've seen the whole thing—from the day Mort and Donna brought Jimmy home from the hospital to last week, when I found him sitting on his stoop at 2 AM, staring at the bodega sign like it contained the secrets of the universe. Let me back up. Mort Mercer was a third-generation New Yorker. His father drove a truck for the city,...
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