“On the Saturday night she is supposed to come home, we come here to be with him. We put a sleeping drug in his drink so he will sleep through the night. Then he is all right for another year.
Joe picked up his hat and his guitar. “We have done this every June for nineteen years, he said. “The first year there were twenty-seven of us. Now just the two of us are left. He opened the door of the pretty little house. And the two old men disappeared into the darkness of the Stanislau.
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