Good Things Come of Nothing
Jim Carlson was sitting in a diner in Youngstown, Ohio, eating pancakes at 11 PM on a Tuesday, because the adoption papers said he was "William Harper's son" and he couldn't decide whether "son" meant he should be wearing a suit or a uniform or just his work boots, which were currently scuffed from three days of walking the factory floor at the auto parts plant. It had started with a phone...
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