Chapter 5: Showtime
Now, the elderly relative, whom she called Uncle Tom, occupied the attic, with a window right above hers. I could see him all the time up there. She always had her curtains drawn, but he never did. Maybe there weren’t any. Anyhow, this particular day he was in his attic dressing up in what must have been his wife’s old clothes again, or something he’d bought from a thrift store.
I could see him through his small attic window because I was sitting on our roof. There’s usually no particular reason for me to be out here—up here, but sometimes, at least before Jamison came into my life, I really didn’t care if I lived or died; so I would let fate decide. I admit that there was a tiny bit of I’ll die, then they’ll be sorry to it. I guess I was depressed, and since I’m not
