to the place where he has worn away the paint

Before they can stand up or try to settle things with Mrs. Kalushiner, there is a scratching at the front door and then a long, low moan. The sound is human and forlorn, and it makes the hair on Landsman’s nape stand erect. He goes to the front door and lets in the dog, who climbs back up onto the stage to the place where he has worn away the paint on the floorboards, and sits, ears raised to catch the sound of the vanished horn, waiting patiently for the leash to be restored. 

–The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, by Michael Chabon

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