The Rust Belt Confession
The Rust Belt Confession Act I The house smelled like a man who had given up. Not dramatically given up. Not the cinematic kind where someone smashes a bottle and yells at the ceiling. Just the slow, quiet kind where you stop making coffee in the morning because the kettle takes too long to boil. I knew the smell. I'd been living with it for two years, in my own house, before my grandmother...
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