Legal Services
Ed, the summer intern, sits just behind Shamayra who faces the cracked, duct-taped door separating the community legal services office from the East Village’s hippies, heroine addicts and assorted others. Five days a week for four weeks now, he’s listened to her screening applicants, letting the eligible through, the rest decrying without looking back, the office, its officious people, in loud, poorly-chosen words. Now accustomed to the diatribes, he doesn’t listen and, if he does, doesn’t look up. Read more
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