THE BLOOM STREET HOUSE

The oven clock activated it.

There was a 10 minute time displacement within Dutch’s house and the epicenter of it all was his
oven.  He’d won the house on 770 Bloom Street in a poker game.
Even at the time he thought he wasn’t playing at his best. 
And the Bloom Street house deed, even as it sat at the center of the table,
seemed too good to be true. 

Yet now the whole thing
made sense somehow.

A completely furnished house, cupboards stocked,
dog in the backyard, was his.

He’d walk
from his bedroom at 8:30

and he wouldn’t truly enter the kitchen until

8:40, even though it was but five

feet away.

He would always say that he would just get another stove, but he never bothered.

A rift in time

was but a small

price to

pay for free room and

board.



-SLL