The factory is always hot and humid. The sun goes down and with the machines running, we slip out the side doors, catching a breeze, having a smoke, the night sky looking like a rotten peach, smelling like an over cooked dryer load.
Summer stretches on.
Mile markers planted along a country road. Another week, another week, another week. And then, one night it’s cool, no cold at 3am and summer slams into autumn. It’s September. I leave the aluminum factory and return to the education factory. I’ve got the money to last through the long and cold Ottawa winter.
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