CHAPTER 1: THE FRICTION OF THE EDGE The sharp, metallic snap of the starter cord against the plastic housing of the green push mower always vibrated straight through Arthur’s arthritic wrists before the engine finally caught. He spat a fleck of dry tobacco into the parched, yellowing turf at his boots and adjusted his grip…
CHAPTER 1: THE FRICTION OF OTHERS The heat in the valley didn’t pass through the neighborhood; it sat in the ditches like stagnant water, smelling of sulfur and wet limestone. It was three o’clock on a Tuesday, the hour when the asphalt on the cul-de-sac softened enough to hold the imprint of a boot heel….
CHAPTER 1: THE FIRST STAKE The fiberglass rod didn’t slide into the earth; it fought it. Jesse leaned his weight into the T-handle, feeling the vibration of dry gravel and impacted yellow clay grind through the palms of his split-leather gloves. The heat in the cul-de-sac didn’t rise; it sat, heavy with the smell of…