The blazing sun was scorching the small town.
The air was thick with the acrid smell of charcoal, burnt meat, and cheap gasoline, and the heat waves from the distant desert seemed to tremble.
In the neighborhood filled with faded signs, Bruce asked around and finally found the barbecue restaurant.
He paused at the door, took a deep breath, and then pushed open the door and walked inside.
The shop was small and sparsely furnished. On the rough cement floor stood four old tables, stained with grease.
Behind the counter, a gaunt middle-aged woman was bent over, wiping the cash register. She wore a faded headscarf, and her brown hair was stuck to her neck with sweat.
Beside her sat an elderly woman with a calm gaze, yet her eyes betrayed a resolve that time could not erase.
As Bruce too
