one: the fox and weasel

Upon Nathan’s return to the rooming house, standing on the front stoop and craning his neck, he squinted at the bright, thick haze above him in awe and disbelief. Within it, a sign slowly materialized, its shadows peeling away. Lopsided, creaking on its chain in the cold, dusty wind. 

The Fox and Weasel, the sign’s gothic letters proclaimed above a double-pointed arrow, one arrow pointing at the front door and the other at a second flight of stairs leading toward a cellar tavern. 

Which, Nathan wondered, was the Fox and which the Weasel? Or did both establishments share the same name and proprietor? When he arrived earlier, there’d been only one arrow and no cellar tavern, the rooming house’s windows dark as if swathed in blackout curtains. 

two: nesting dolls

He followed her along the vestibule. Shedding pools of light, candles glowed throughout the house. The furniture bulky, antique, often covered with drop-cloth. Despite the doors being ajar, the rooms appeared little used with other doors shut and perhaps locked.

The house appeared much larger inside than outside, though the only rooms available were upstairs, Mary said, the woman he was following. She limped, one leg shorter than the other, Nathaniel mused, or perhaps she was otherwise lame, a wooden leg, though her gait so quickened he couldn’t keep up.

Of course, his luggage weighed him down. Also, his hand spasmed and his back ached, making him fear he’d become permanently maimed.

three: portmanteau

Mary left him at the landing, the passageway ahead devoid of paintings, furnishings, doorways, windows, just the same drab, peeling wallpaper he’d seen earlier in the parlor, faintly lit by a dull, pulsing light. Did it emanate from the wallpaper or elsewhere? Nathan couldn’t tell, however closely he examined it.

He was dawdling, reluctant to continue, fearful of ascending the next stairs, second guessing himself regarding agreeing to the sisters’ offer of the rooms sight unseen and with no agreement regarding their final rate. Wary of the sisters’ generosity and also of Robert Halzer’s.

On the top landing at the first and only door, he inserted his key, and turned the knob. Behind it, a small, cramped room but filled with light, the windows half open, shades flapping in the breeze, a smell of disinfectant, not entirely unpleasant, dissipating in the air. The bathroom door ajar, Nathan glimpsed a claw-footed tub ringed with curtains.

Single bed with carved wooden frame, night stand, rolltop desk, wrought-iron floor lamp. As promised, a rotary telephone, encased in black bakelite, peered from the floor next to the bed.