Frank Beres lost his job at the auto plant on a Monday. By Wednesday, the mystery had started. By Friday, he had stopped caring.
Detroit in the early 2010s was a city of empty lots and boarded-up windows, of people who had worked hard their whole lives and found that hard work was not enough. Frank was forty-two, divorced, with two kids he saw on weekends and a one-bedroom apartment that smelled permanently of mildew and instant noodles. The mystery began with the water. The tap water from Frank's faucet developed a...
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