"Pen blanks," Julian said, his eyes lighting up as he dug through a bin of scrap. To him, these four-inch sticks were potential gifts for board members. He paid in crisp twenties, happy to skip the retail markup of specialty hardwood stores. To Julian, scrap was a shortcut to a hobby that made him feel like he still worked with his hands.
By noon, the atmosphere shifted. A rusted flatbed truck pulled in, driven by Miller, a local man who lived off the grid three miles up the ridge. Miller didn’t care about grain patterns or species. He cared about BTUs. who buys scrap wood
"Got any kiln-dried left?" Miller asked, tossing a heavy crate into his truck bed. "Pen blanks," Julian said, his eyes lighting up