The Monument of Stillness
The suburb of Ocotillo was a place of blinding light and absolute silence. The houses were identical cubes of beige stucco, the lawns were synthetic, and the heat was a physical weight that pressed everything into a state of shimmering stasis. In the driveway of the last house on the cul-de-sac sat a 1967 Cadillac DeVille, a rusted, sun-bleached shell that had not moved in thirty years. Elias...
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