The Garbage Chemist
The whistle blew at six and Mike O'Shea walked out of the steel mill with two thousand other men, all of them moving at the same slow pace, all of them carrying the same look on their face. It was not anger. It was not sadness. It was the look of people who had worked the same shift for twenty years and suddenly realized there might not be another one. Mike kept walking. His truck was parked in...
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