It was raining as she sat there, leaning against the fence. She wore a black rain coat but her ankles were exposed and a clump of beige mud stained her canvas sneakers. She was so beautiful in this way I can't describe and terrible too, calm despite the intrusion because she'd seen it all and then some. The fabric of reality shimmered when we spoke. Why was she dealt one hand, and I another?

Lucy and Jason put us up for two nights, warriors both--it takes great courage to brook convention. Dan dove into a couple of dumpsters on the way back from Dallas. I dare you to find a better field producer.