![]() ![]() A group of workers passed him going the other direction, chatting and interacting. More machines had needed attention, and he’d rushed down the corridor to see to them. He’d finished maintenance on a parawind ring spinner with only moments to spare before the arrival of the first shift of workers. He saw her for only a moment, a chance encounter. ![]() ![]() Yet on an autumn day, as he walked the length of a nearly windowless stretch of hallway, Ian crossed paths with an angel. Within the dark confines of their daily prison, they worked and collected their pay with no expectation of joy. The factory offered the poor an income but precious little else. The thick air rang with the aggressive crash of machinery and the unending din of voices. Ian O’Connor spent his days in the corridors of purgatory itself. ![]()
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