Watching Chinese immigrants shouting curt orders to Black workers in their newly learned English was often like observing a failed game of telephone, as the workers’ faces bore quiet offense.

I pass trucks carrying oil, milk, a load of onions (mostly) covered by a tarp. You’re hot, he says.

“‘This land isn’t empty, it’s full of ghosts, you just can’t see them.' She says it flat, matter of fact, no judgement at all.”

“The desert tests the faith of even the most committed. When I received orders to deploy here, I imagined sand dunes and shimmering heat.”

“She’d thought she could drive so fast in that sleek yellow car that she’d outstrip everything else, make the world a blur. But the world was still there, steam rising from the long sleek hood, the car stopped dead forever.”