In the fall of 1997, Luna's cousin Caleb took a temp job at the grain elevator outside Gentry, Kansas, a town of four hundred people and one blinking stoplight. The elevator was the only structure for miles — a concrete tower rising out of the soybean fields like a tombstone. Caleb was hired to scrub out the silos between harvests, a job nobody wanted because of the heat, the dust, and the stories. The stories said that in 1983, a man named Harlan Sutter had climbed into Silo Four to break up a crust of moldy grain and never came out. They found his hat on the catwalk and his boots on the floor, but the rest of him was gone — worked into the grain, they said, ground away by the augers. Caleb didn't believe it. He was practical, flat-faced, thirty years old with a baby on the way. He took the job because the pay was good. And for six weeks, nothing happened. Then the seventh week, the temperature dropped, and the grain started to move on its own. Luna tells the story the way Caleb told her — over a kitchen table in Hays, Kansas, with a glass of water he never touched.