He unlatched the slide-lock and pushed it open. It was small; he had to crouch down, peering through the gloom pent up in the attic.
Landon’s unease came back, full force. He pushed the button to silence the boom box, to better hear what they sang
Come in. The whisper came at the heels of the deafening, echoing knock. He could not. He couldn’t do it
people had crept in here like feral dogs, squatting and furtively building mean homes, scrounging for ginseng, paw paws and other wild things to live on.
He’d always be in-between, not quite country and not quite city, and it gave him the unique perspective that came with being an outsider no matter what.