Fallout (Crank 3)

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.