My car’s headlights pierce twin tunnels into the night’s remote darkness, as the rain stabs down, its bright pins glittering towards God’s paved earth. Nothing ahead, but two-lane tarmac interrupted by a white center line, and the promise of heavy weather for hours to come.
Suddenly, the beams sweep a half-naked man, shirtless, running at the side of this country road. As I approach him, I slow down, but he doesn’t look up, he doesn’t pause, he just keeps running---towards or away, it’s impossible to say.
I ease past him, and a half mile later, I glimpse a white Ford empty as an abandoned house readied for demolition, tilted on side of the road. Windows rolled down, rain pouring in, no telling how much has been lost, or just who managed to escape
Moo Orders Milk
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