It was the type of room you couldn’t breathe in, with one large window that was painted shut. The brown walls made us sleepy, but the hard stools hurt our backs so we never sat down. The floorboards were half-eaten by woodworm and we poked our chubby fingers right down through them. Without an underfloor, the neighbours would shout up, get those fat maggots out our ceiling! And we would call back, We can’t! We can’t! and they’d shout, Why not! We’ll get the broom! But we didn’t have anything else to do so we left the maggots there, wriggling.
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