Can I go home – to Boston?
It was a huge mistake to leave Boston. I should have stayed and married Dottie Witherspoon. We should have had children. Then I would not have fallen afoul of the Delpiano family, a Sicilian den of malcontents. I had taken the Mafia to court for five months, and won my case. I survived a attempt on my life.
Who am I fooling. Living on Monument Street is my dream of living a normal mortal life. I must return to Anderson Street, for I left her there. I had to get away from – there. For she is here, high on the hill overlooking the Commons, the one, that was meant for me. I now know what went wrong. She only listened to the first side of the tape I sent her. And, now, she is captured in purgatory.
Here is the home I deserve. It is a basement appartment. How…
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