The Weight of Old Iron and Fading Ribbons across a Broken Country Coffee Line
CHAPTER 1: THE TACTICAL SURFACE “Move aside and stop causing problems,” Miller said, his voice dropping an octave into the dry, flat rasp he usually saved for insubordinate privates during policing details. The stainless-steel steam table between them radiated a wet, institutional heat that smelled of overcooked cabbage and cheap industrial soap. The stocky cafeteria…