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Yeah, I’m in the penthouse, so right away you think I’m a phony, a socialite, a Gotham creature. Wrong. I hate it. My ex-wife Jane Gallagher left it to me when she died last month. Now I’m stuck with it. Before you judge me, consider, I’m 81, Phoebe died of cancer when she was 36, Sally Hayes got hit by a bus in 1968. Stradlater and Ackley got old and died. Even J.D. is gone. It’s just me left, looking out at these lights I know are supposed to be pretty, but they’re crap. I’d rather be at the Edmont.