The strong smell of cut weeds and hot engine oil hung heavy in the still air.

I wiped my dirty hands on my jeans.

“It belongs to him now,” Luke said.

I walked twenty yards up the gravel driveway toward the front yard.

June’s lilac bushes had grown badly out of control near the stone foundation of the porch.

The broad green leaves were curling inward from the relentless heat.

The dry dirt around their base was cracked and gray.

The branches sagged toward the dead grass.