The Black Card

I grabbed the keys to the truck he mentioned, my fingers gripping the cool metal as if preparing for battle. All my life, I had lived in Ashwood Bay. If someone asked for directions, I could map out the worn-out streets, the rundown diners, and the cracked pavements like a seasoned tour guide. I knew the grit of the city, the places where working-class people scraped by just to keep the lights on.