"Number 4, Hessel Street," Shom said. "The windows are broken in the back room, and the toilet is shared with the family on the ground floor. But the roof doesn't leak, and the National Front boys don't go down that alley because the butchers there keep their cleavers sharp."
Uncle Shom didn't flinch. He just stared at the box in my lap. Uncle Shom Part 1
If you are looking for a critical, thought-provoking read about history and politics, "Uncle Sham" is by far the most likely candidate. In this context, "Shom" is almost certainly a phonetic misspelling of "." "Number 4, Hessel Street," Shom said
"You’re burning daylight, kid," a voice rasped from the shadows behind the booth. He just stared at the box in my lap
Shom sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a hundred past mistakes. He reached into his coat and pulled out a tarnished silver pocket watch. He clicked it open, stared at the stopped hands, and snapped it shut.
Should she allow Uncle Shom these simple physical comforts to help him navigate his severe depression and keep him happy?