Tom Miller's job was to walk four miles through an empty mine and make sure nobody was stealing from nothing.
It wasn't much of a job. It wasn't no job, either. It was better than nothing, which was what he'd had for three years after the coal dust took his lungs and the company gave him a check for twelve thousand dollars and told him to take it somewhere quiet. Black Oak Mine had closed in nineteen ninety-seven. Coal prices had dropped, the seam had gotten thinner, and the safety violations had piled...
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