I want to ask her what she means. But the screen glitches. When it clears, she’s gone. Replaced by an infomercial for a juicer that guarantees happiness in thirty seconds.
I laugh. No one’s supposed to answer back. nicole aniston tonights
I pull into the motel off Route 93. The vacancy sign buzzes neon pink, bleeding into puddles left from a storm that passed hours ago. Inside, the clerk doesn’t look up. Just slides a key across the laminate. Room 8. End of the row. I want to ask her what she means