The Last Shift at Kincaid Steel
Raymond Kowalski punched out at five-fifteen on a Thursday in March and walked to his locker the same way he had walked to his locker for eighteen years: shoulders forward, head down, the kind of walk that said the floor beneath your feet was not something you could count on. He was forty-six years old, and he knew two things about himself that he was certain were true. The first was that he...
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