The COVID pandemic is one certainty that has mortally wounded Steve Osborne's world. A lesser certainty is recalled in the bewildered timbre of a car-accident survivor: On Christmas Eve, Osborne said goodbye to his few employees, locked the door to his shop, stepped into his car and drove off toward home, overworked and dehydrated. He doesn't remember the rest, the car was totaled, and he was saved by the chest-punch airbag, which caused even more pain and damage to his body, which at the moment is reduced to an old-man's shuffle about his Desert Son, the store he owns in the foothills of Tucson.