It happens with almost no warning: they're each in their separate lives, and then one day they're slotting back into their rightful places, Ray at the wheel and Brad at his side. The US of A isn't much like the Fertile Crescent, but Ray's voice still fills the car, and Brad watches sunlight- heavy and orange in the late afternoon -gild Ray's eyelashes. Folk burns through their speakers, and the dust that climbs to the open sky carries the sound.

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