It's a simple gun club well away from the outskirts of a large Midwest town. Across the road, a cornfield that will soon be stubble, waves in the breeze like a friendly neighbor with a wind that picked up at the end of the day. Peering down on the road that leads to this place, the August sun, already hanging low and orange in the sky, like ripe fruit, waits for the rim of the earth to take one last bite out of it. You are alone, yet you are not, a couple of cars in the lot as folks put away the last of their equipment, the last person out making sure the clubhouse is locked, the gate Read More >>
