The kind of night that made even the streetlights look guilty was the night I first heard about Simple.
Earl Henderson. That was his real name, though nobody in the union called him that. They called him Simple, and they meant it kindly enough. He was a pipefitter at the canning factory on Whittier -- steady worker, showed up on time, never caused trouble. His hands were always greasy from work, and he had a habit of hummin' to himself while he worked, a tuneless little whistle that the other...
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