CHAPTER 1: Smoke Over North Pier

The market looked generous from a distance.
Canvas tents glowed under strings of yellow bulbs. Smoke from the grills turned golden in the sunset. Customers moved between tables with paper trays, laughing as if hunger were only a pleasant problem solved by money.
Then a young man stepped into the aisle with dust on his shirt and exhaustion in his face.
People noticed him the way they noticed rain on expensive shoes: quickly, with irritation, then with their eyes elsewhere. He was thin, unshaven, and too young to have the hollow look he carried. His gray T-shirt was stained at the collar. His hands hung near his pockets as if he had trained them not to reach for anything.
Daniel Price saw him from behind the grill at Booth 14. He almost turned back to the chicken, because the line was long and mercy did not pay rent. Then the young man looked up at the old market office above the blue awnings, and Daniel forgot the order in his hand.