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By 2:00 AM, the new compressor—the heart of the machine—was lifted into place. The new copper lines were brazed, shining in the harsh light of his headlamp.
He leaned against the cold galvanized steel, checking his watch. It was already 8:00 PM. The permit application was pending, and he had to work fast to avoid violating the city's strict noise ordinances. By 2:00 AM, the new compressor—the heart of
The air handling unit—designated unit —had been the bane of Matthew Burkholder’s existence for three days. By 2:00 AM