Chapter One
PRESLEY
The flight from Los Angeles to San Antonio is nothing special, but I enjoy stealing glances at the clouds out the window. Stuck between a snoring man and a coughing woman, all I want to do is spray myself with Lysol, but I settle for rushing off the plane once we land. Even though I travel a lot for my job as a photographer, I still get anxious about flying and dealing with everything that comes with it. Once I get the keys to the rental car and place my suitcases and camera gear in the back, relief takes over. As I pull out of the parking lot, I breathe easy. That is, until I hit midday traffic.
Growing up in LA, I dealt with bumper-to-bumper traffic no matter the time of day, so even though this is still annoying, it doesn’t faze me. Over the years, I’ve learned to
