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Show City Motel 116 Upstairs in Room 4, the breathing was not as d i s t i n c t , but John, the salesman, could hear i t just the same. He had spent the entire day worrying about his quota of sold uniforms for April and about having to face his wife and t e l l her that he had f a i l e d again. He was t i r ed of worrying and d i d n ' t give second thought to the breathing motel. Steve, the truck driver in Room 5, was peeling the cellophane wrap from some Saltines he had picked up in Ruth's Diner; he was not careful about dropping crumbs on the green carpet because his wife always nagged him about cracker crumbs. He jerked the tab-pull from his beer and took loud sips from the ice cold can. He unbuttoned his s h i r t and l e t his dog tags f a l l out of his undershirt making metallic sounds. He walked around the room several times, touched his toes, and rotated his ankles to improve the c i r c u l a t i o n . He was too t i r e d to go to bed, so he flipped on the TV and "Casablance." He'd seen i t five times. Finally, he unlaced his boots and dropped them on the f l o o r , draped his blue jeans over the wooden desk chair, and f e l l on the bed. He heard the breathing, but thought i t was his own. He was snoring before he could assess the sounds of the night. Mrs. Jackson heard the pacing and the f a l l i n g onto the bed, but she was so f i l l e d with images of what was in the walls that she didn't think any negative thoughts about the inconsiderate person above her who forgot that everyone else was probably asleep at this late hour. Meanwhile, the motel manager was brushing her hair and getting ready to take off her chenille robe with the lumpy t i e in front. She laughed to |