Overgaard, Arizona lined up the empty beer kegs along the side of the road just to see how far they would stretch.
One of the men in the saloon was convinced they would eventually reach all the way to Las Vegas.
The rancher at the end of the bar had broken every one of his fingers fifty years ago. The young woman next to him had a ring on every one of her fingers.
He was taken aback by her question, lowered his voice to a raspy whisper and told her the Greeks had a term for it, something they called ekpyrosis.
He didn’t expect her to ask if this was about the universe falling apart and putting itself back together.
These kinds of conversations just didn’t happen in Overgaard, Arizona.
