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THE TENANT
Trelkovsky rented the small and shabby apartment—even though the former tenant had hurled herself screaming through the window. Even though her presence—and her madness—seemed to seep through the damp walls. Even though the dead woman still lived in that apartment. A superstitious person, a fearful person, would not have rented it. But Trelkovsky did. For better, or for worse, he was The Tenant.