"How much of the 34-0-0 you got left in the shed, El?" the boy asked, leaning against the counter.
Elias peaked over his spectacles. "Ammonium nitrate? Enough to feed half the county’s corn, I reckon. Why? Your old man finally deciding to expand the north lot?"
The bell above the door chimed, a lonely sound in the cavernous silence of Miller’s Farm Supply. Elias didn’t look up from his ledger. He knew the gait; it was young Miller, likely looking for a specialized lubricant or a part for the thresher that had been coughing gray smoke since Tuesday.
Elias closed the ledger with a soft thud . The air in the store suddenly felt heavy with the scent of iron and dry earth.
The boy shifted his weight. "Seems like a lot of fuss for fertilizer."