By Joe Yates
Even at dusk it was still a bit muggy, and when you looked way down Main Street toward the old school, the air above the pavement shimmered. But the heat of the day was dissipating, becoming bearable again, and the youngster — say about 14 — leaned back against one of the cast iron columns buttressing the storefront of the New Castle Pool Hall, and lit a cigarette. Life was good, and although the kid wasn’t old enough to understand a notion of this sort, he did not have a care in the world.
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