No Home Coming
The ashes were still warm when Michael Nowak arrived. They had been burning for two hours. He stood at the edge of the lot, his hands in the pockets of a coat that was too thin for a November night in Chicago, and watched the fire consume what had been Stanislaw Kowalski's life. It was not Stanislaw's house anymore. It had been sold to pay Henryk's debts. But Stanislaw and Anna had been living...
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