From the Seahawk Rooster, if one looks to the right, across the tracks and up the road a rooster peers down from a second story window, almost imperceptible except to the very observant. The windows on his floor appear to be blacked out, and to his right is a patina painted door in the upper-story wall with no apparent stairway or balcony to reach it. Poor guy sits dusty and alone up there in that old warehouse attic.
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