The morning David Keller drove toward the old cemetery on the east side of Santa Fe, something felt quietly wrong in a way he could not explain. The sky was pale and heavy, as if the clouds themselves were undecided about whether to stay or leave, and the wind carried a dry chill that crept through his coat despite the early spring sun. David had visited this place every month since his wife died, always on the same day, always with the same careful restraint, yet that morning his chest felt tight before he even parked the car.
