Seven Times Down
I. The factory closed on a Wednesday. Joe O'Brien found out because he was the last one to leave—the night shift, the one nobody wanted, the one that paid forty cents an hour less than the day shift. He walked out of the gate at six in the morning, his hands stained with grease, his back aching, his mind already thinking about the coffee he was going to make when he got home. The sign on the...
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