The Honest Strike
Tom O'Connor lived above a bodega on Essex Street in a fourth-floor walk-up that smelled permanently of boiled cabbage and someone else's fried onions. He was twenty-eight, Irish-Catholic on his father's side and unspecified-European on his mother's, which in Manhattan meant his grandfather had been a potato-famine refugee who changed his name from O'Connell because he thought the L looked...
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