The Weight of Dust and Iron on the Edge of Gate Four
CHAPTER 1: THE GRAVEL LINE The sun hadn’t even cleared the canopy of the scrub oaks, but the heat was already rising off the cul-de-sac asphalt in faint, oily waves. My hands were already gray with the fine, dry dust of crushed limestone from the retaining wall before the flatbed’s tires even hit the curb….