The Absurd Maintenance of Tom Egan
The Absurd Maintenance of Tom EganThe car died on Interstate 80 somewhere between nowhere and nowhere else. Nebraska, maybe. Kansas, maybe. The gas station was a fluorescent-lit rectangle in the plains, the kind of place that appeared on highway maps between two exits that were thirty miles apart. Inside: a coffee machine that had never been cleaned, a vending machine with three working slots,...
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