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and some of your clothes. Promise
to pay you back. Love, Summer.
I GATHER UP
The fragments
of my shattered
dignity. Exit through
the front door, paper
bag filled with
pilfered necessities
heavy in my hand.
I look at the horizon,
hung low with charcoal
clouds. Storm gestating.
Kyle waits, fingers
thrumming impatiently
against the steering
wheel. Can’t say
I blame him. We
really must go. Need to
run. One chapter closed.
Another almost begun.
THREE HUN IN HAND
We chance a quick stop at Wal-Mart.
I’ve been thinking about which way
to go, Kyle says. I think we should head
up Highway 395. No one will expect us
to take that route. Not this time of year.
There are lots of places we can camp,
and I could probably find work at
Mammoth, once the ski resort opens.
