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Summary
The desert had always been quiet enough to forget in.
Wile had learned to live among the dust, the endless highways, and the loneliness that settled slowly into his bones. Then, one evening, a blue feather appeared on his doorstep.
And behind a juniper tree, a stranger with honey-colored eyes was watching him.
He didn't speak English. Wile didn't know his name. They had no reason to understand each other, let alone become drawn to one another. And yet, there was something in the way the stranger looked at him—something Wile couldn't name and couldn't seem to escape.
Somewhere between the desert heat, stolen glances, and everything left unsaid, solitude began to feel dangerously like longing.