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Delivery-date: Fri, 25 May 2007 21:13:13 +0000
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From: "Deanna." <Deanna@myrdin.com>
To: "Travis Luis" <sales@soundsgoodmusic.net>
Subject: Pedro put a Ring where?
Date: Fri, 25 May 2007 14:40:07 -0700
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Furlong County. Theodosia was in the country suite of offices, on Pruiss's
personal profit loss statements. Pruiss looked out his window and the top of
the three-story across the street bathed in soft moonglow. He put sweater
over his and walked across the street. As he stepped the door of the
replicated tenement, his began to sweat. He looked up 
steps. There was bulb burning at the of the second-floor landing. It long
shadows down along the steps, each stair meticulously swaybacked in the
duplicating tenement steps curved and bowed years of being walked in the
center. Pruiss stepped the first stair. It squeaked, as it had when he was
boy. The of urine in the hall was strong bitter. Sweat broke out on Pruiss's
was frightened, just as he always been frightened, every time he up the
stairs of 
building, the bare wooden that led to hallways lined with linoleum, worn
through in spots, installed in desperate and futile attempt make the
building cheery. For all his talk being child of the the streets had Pruiss.
He was smaller than other his age and they didn't him, and whereas seemed
not to living in dangerous, dirty slums, was frightened for his life every
of his childhood. It was as if alone, of all the boys, how impermanent life
was 
that his life was precious, something to guarded. He had taken spending
more and time in the apartment with his hardworking mother rarely-seen
father, dreaming what life would be like when was grown and powerful and
rich. Both mother father were gone He wished they had been around to him
make it. The farther he walked up steps, the more perspired. The light the
third floor landing was out, as always had been when 
was boy. forced himself to upstairs, knowing even as did it that it was
mistake, he should not something he should never The perspiration rolled off
head. There were newspapers and crushed brown bag in one corner of hallway.
That was where Mr. Bailey, lived one flight down, always disposed of
evidence of the bottle of wine he home and hid in his apartment. Outside of
the apartment doors, stack of was piled neatly and tied. Those were 
Acalara's papers. She was widow and Wesley would carry her papers the
junkyard down the block on back of his wagon. He always went early on
Saturday morning the big lads weren't out three-foot high pile of would sell
for twenty cents. Acalara always gave him nickel to for himself. Pruiss
stood in the of the third landing and listened to the stillness the
building. There was no sound except