Chapter Twelve: My Mini Meltdown

Blown Bridges, Crime Scene Fantasies, and the Gospel of Hunger

Fairfax is a small town.

How small?

One blinking light. Right at the center. That was it.

And my apartment? Faced it directly.

I lived at the crossroads of “nothing happens” and “everyone sees it.”

It was my corner.

I used to hide around that corner after school, waiting for the school buses to pass before heading home. Not because I was shy — I’d happily tel…