She arrives exhausted just as the still moving earth turns from night to extract particles of light from a rising sun.
She rolls down the windows as she drives the last two miles through the still sleepy town. The air is so wet with sea, she feels submerged–driving through water the same color as the sky. Deep alive blue.
It is so close to the sea, the end of this road.
Oddly enough, after hours and hours of fighting sleep and passing rest stops, she fingers the keys to the house, still cradled in the padded mailer from the law offices of…
Looks down at Betsy Lee, curled asleep with her head in her lap, pulls a blanket gently around them both and falls asleep, leaning against the interior of her grandfather’s old pickup for ballast, afraid to disturb anything.