The Gray Goose
Forget Rose’s sidewalk speeches, her tirades against the residents of the dead utopia of Sunnyside Gardens, corrupted by the onrush of coming …
The way Rose handled the album reminded Miriam of Jewish ritual: "the slipping of scrolls from a cabinet, her grandfather's tender sheathing of the afikomen." A wrong glance could probably scratch the thing. God knew this was a house of wrong glances.