For no good reason, I held my breath as I passed the sign welcoming me to Wind Gap, the way kids do when they drive by cemeteries. The row of houses along Main Street still stood, yet well-tended hydrangea had been replaced with cheap toys and mismatched clay pots filled only with dirt. A man in coveralls ambled past the General Store and waved as his gaze followed my ordinary rental car. I automatically pulled to the grass and lingered. The stand of cottonwoods near the edge of the school yard now towered above the town. Windows once offering escape for my wandering mind were trapped behind sheets of plywood. The air smelled familiar.