the faint rumble of trucks downshifting on the off-ramp. A mile away, somebody blew an air horn.
“Why do you come here?” I asked.
“Because this is where I stopped running.”
He held up the photo.
“David gave me this picture the first time he came to see me in prison. Second year of my sentence. I thought he was coming to tell me I was going to rot. I thought continue reading …
