The Distant Nightmare
The truck sat in the gravel lot like a beached whale, its paint peeling in flakes of rust-colored skin, and David Kovic stood by the passenger door, holding a wrench in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other, watching the sun bleed out over the scrubland. He was a man who had forgotten how to breathe without counting his steps, a mechanic from Dayton who had driven until the gas gauge...
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