The Weight of the Apron and the Chilling Certainty of Cold Water along the Concrete
CHAPTER 1: THE FIRST INCURSION The engine didn’t cut out; it just sat there, a low, oily vibration that rattled the cheap glass pane of Sarah’s front door. It was 7:14 AM. Through the thin mesh of the screen, the morning light looked gray and gritty, catching the floating dust motes before hitting the parched…