The garage smelled of sawdust and old oil, the kind of smell that gets into your clothes and stays there for days. Mike Kowalski stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and looked at the...
It was ugly. That was the first thing he noticed. The legs were uneven, the top was warped, and the joinery was amateurish at best. Frank Kowalski had started the table in 1978 and abandoned it in 1982, four years after his first cough that wouldn't go away, two years before the black lung diagnosis that the doctors delivered with the sort of clinical detachment that made it worse. Mike had not...
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