The Gateway

There they were. Older than they'd want to be but younger than their dreary mugs would lend. Its the middle of summer in the middle of the desert and their heads were as dusty as the Juarez clay. Four tumbleweeds shaped like men rolled into town looking for a soul. The lady at the pawn shop said "It could be found in the place where borders cross, the place where the Rio Grande starts speaking Spanish"

There they were. Lips cracked like the stucco all over that town. That god-damned town...

There they were. In Texas. The Gateway. El Paso...