I found my old mill jacket in the back of the closet. Eighteen months since I last wore it.
The pocket had a pay stub from my last week. $347 after taxes. I remember thinking that was enough.
The mill closed. I lost everything. Now I write parking tickets in the same town.
I'm saving for a wedding. My fiancée keeps asking when I'll get rid of the jacket.
This morning I saw the crossing guard. He used to run the saw. Now he waves kids across.
My phone died at 4%. I couldn't call her to say I'd be late.
I stood there in the rain, watching him. He smiled. I smiled back.
Maybe that's the second chance. Not the job. The people who stayed.