The Black Lung Lesson
Chalk dust fell like snow onto Margaret's cough. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and felt the wetness before she saw it — bright red against the dark skin of her knuckles. She did not look at the children. She looked at the blackboard, at the division problem half-erased by the damp, and wrote the next line. "Again," she said. "From the top." Thomas, nine years old with coal dust...
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