Breaking each minute by the length of a track, measuring time by the mark of a chalk. The few hardcore fans in the stands at Raceway Park sized the speed by the block of an engine, and bet on the skill of the driver behind his rolled-up window. An open track morning. Idling with impatience, the line of cars revved intimidation, their lacquered color and chrome signaling their driver was no man to mess with, on the road or off. Dante lit a cigarette and blew the smoke toward the shotgun seat. A gray, shifting cloud, but it didn’t bother Remy, who thrived on any kind of exhaust. Not so strange for a man who’d caught fire. Continue reading →

We didn’t know until later how much you didn’t like loud sounds. Movies in the theater, the flush of most toilets, a nearby peal of thunder—all of these frightened you. There was wonder, though. Continue reading →