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“His name was Paul. Such a boring name, you’d think he’d get a long, boring life.”
It was one of those days where you work your skin off and have no desire, no strength even, to go home. There was a kind of luxury to be amongst this place of sweat and ache and yet sit and suck a cigarette down to its soggy nub and have no one tell you anything because you’re off the clock. A dignified, defiant rest.
