“Why don’t you get a job at the mill? I love it.” The paper mill is most people’s go-to job in Henley. They either work there, at the local hospital, or commute, while a handful man the bare-bones selection of local businesses. “I want to finish my degree.” A louder sigh comes from her end, followed by the creaking of her front door. “I need to run, hon. Dick just got in.” Before I can say goodbye, she disconnects. Sadly, this isn’t the first time—and it won’t be the last—that a Dick is more important to her.
