buried world.
The wind moved through the pines.
Somewhere far off, a lawnmower started up.
Life continued, indifferent.
But inside me, something started to wake up.
Not rage.
Not revenge.
Something sharper.
Clarity.
UNIT 108
Westridge Storage sat on the edge of town where the roads widened and the buildings got lower. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it.
A chain-link fence. A keypad gate. Rows of metal doors.
I parked and walked to the office, but it was closed for lunch.
