Jason and I walked out onto the stone viewing platform wrapped in heavy wool coats, holding steaming cups of coffee.
For the first five minutes, neither of us said a word. There are places on this earth where human language simply surrenders. The canyon stretches out before you like an ancient, sun-baked ocean carved in stone—vast layers of red, ochre, purple, and slate plunging a mile deep into the earth, catching the first golden rays of dawn like fire across an altar.
“My God,” Jason breathed out softly, the steam from his breath curling into the freezing air. “It looks like another planet.”
“It’s just Earth,” I said, resting my hands on the cold stone rail. “We just spend most of our lives living in rooms too small to notice it.”
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small leather-bound journal Emily had hidden in the secret compartment of the RV. I flipped it open to the page marked Arizona.
