k with the smell of ol

ther sticky tabl

Maya. I'm

e a dream someon

st Belt town, dr

was broke,

l night, her breathing

of our traile

y, his factory "accident" years a

patriarch well, especial

than, was old

he "Heartland Strug

our poverty,

it was "

like a perfo

small paychecks, they all

never

ce was stuck on the fri

, loan sharks breathing do

ive medicine. Mark's disa

" Brenda had rasped that

few dollars in my p

e sign flashed: POWE

dea. A des

ent

," I said, pushing my last fi

ce of paper, a fl

everyone was asleep, I

e being drawn o

art t

the ticket

mber m

ano

anot

eath

of t

llion d

e screen, then

started

ere

use. Mark could have... well, Mark would

ally think

real one,

to tel