June 7, 2004
The skyline of Midland finally appears on the horizon. Summer heat twists the buildings, huge towers rising from the empty sand before me. Interstate 20 is relentless—straight, flat, with nothing to block the glare except an enormous billboard, depicting both Bush presidents and their first ladies, that the city council put up after Junior’s election. Midland, the town of presidents. I grin at the silly sign. I’m almost home.