The Concrete Line Drawn in the Sun-Bleached Dust of an Unyielding American Suburb
CHAPTER 1: THE ORANGE INK ON THE POST The heat came off the asphalt in visible, oily waves, distorting the neat lines of the opposite lawns until the colonial-style facades looked waterlogged. Sarah didn’t look at the houses across the street. Her focus was entirely on the mailbox post at the edge of her gravel…