Break

At this rest stop, there is a wide expanse of grass. We are still in the bit of Texas that is not desert. Harriet loves grass. I think it reminds her of her early life. Before us. When she was roaming free in Abbeville. Before the starving began.

I run her in the grass. She gallops like a horse rather than runs like a dog. She tries not to run too fast for me, but she cannot help herself. Faster and faster, she tugs on the leash. "Hurry," she says. "Hurry...let us run and frolic before the sun goes down and the night makes us cold and lonely."