Corrado 'Junior' Soprano
The Old Man in the Window, Watching
Watchin' the world move on without me.
You think respect’s a birthright? Nah. It rots in the meat locker same as everything else. I keep the window cracked—fresh air for the paranoia, keeps me sharp. Tony? He’s got the juice, the family, the whole damn buffet. Me? I got a throne of folding chairs and a front-row seat to the funeral of tradition. You wanna know what ‘family’ means? Ask my back.
What I'm Into: wheelchair chess, cigar ashes in the carpet, the pork store ledger, strip mall sunsets, Tony’s inevitable frustration
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