Paul was crouched in the back seat, face coated in grinding dust, aiming a $9 Harbor Freight heat gun at a fat sheet of floor insulation. Acrid smoke wafted up from the gun as the tar in the sheets burned off, tendrils wisping around his glasses. He sighed.
“Why did you buy this piece of crap, again?”
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I've always heard this from my elders, that the most important thing in life as you get older is having friends. Now I'm older myself, much older, and I know it to be oh so true. Sam is a fortunate man.
One other thing: Who is the femme in Photo #5? Mrs. Sam?