The Wistful Skyline
Bernard Thibodeaux was scrubbing the coal dust from his fingernails with a stiff-bristled brush when the phone rang, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet of the kitchen. He wiped his hands on his apron, leaving dark smears on the white cotton, and picked up the receiver from the hallway table. The voice on the other end was Manager Halloway’s, dry and clipped, like a shovel hitting a rock....
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