(900 words) The Great Writer poured another whisky and gazed out through the Boston Grande penthouse window and over the Boston skyline. He filled his glass with soda. Better take it easy on the booze tonight! Down in the basement was the laundry where he’d worked after leaving school, loading sheets and tablecloths into the huge washers. With revulsion, he remembered the maggots that festered on the seafood stains.