The Rust Belt Apocalypse
Jack Miller didn't care about the sky. He cared about the oil change he had to do at four o'clock and the pump that was broken at the corner of Route 6 and Main and the bottle of whiskey in his locker that he was saving for Friday. The sky was the sky. It was blue in the morning and gray at night. Sometimes there were clouds. Sometimes there weren't. Jack didn't think about it. Boss Thompson...
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