A chubby boy with rosy cheeks and freckles roller skated to Jean. He looked Rockwellian.
“Which ya doin’?” he asked.
“Looking at a house I might buy,” Jean answered.
“Which one?” he continued. “I know all about deez houses.”
Jean pointed to a rowhouse with a boarded storefront.
“It’s got roaches,” he said. “Don’t buy it.”
Before she moved in, her friends helped her scrub the panelled walls. Then, they sat on the worn carpet to eat.
Roaches crept from wall trenches and marched down the painted panels. “Oh, brother,” Sue moaned through a mouthful of pizza.
Jean should have listened.