Blue Door

Gordy Miller is sixty-seven years old, slightly deaf in his left ear, and six months away from selling his shop and moving to a cabin in Flagstaff. He bends neon. Not LED. Not digital displays. Real neon — glass tubes, argon gas, high-voltage transformers, the kind of signs that hum when you stand close enough.One October night, sixty feet up on a lift above Boulder Highway, his hand finds somethi...