| Trinity part 2 |
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Anastasia's filling up the car as I suck down coffee in this truck stop. Hungry trucks growling on the pavement. Inside, the waitresses sway with coffee pots through the beams of sun that stretch to the tables and glint off plastic salt and pepper shakers. Outside, US380 stretches out forever in a continuous ribbon of asphalt. I get up, pay, and drop the spoon into my coat pocket. We're a hundred miles out of Albuquerque, twelve thousand miles from the Euphrates. I open the diner door and a wall of dry heat comes between me and Ana. She pulls the pump nozzle from the tank and the gassy haze steals her hands from my view. Her hands carry the nozzle back to the pump, place the gas cap back, and close the lid. She looks at me and smiles like a child. There's something real between me and her, more than just this trip, the car, the dirty truck stops, the coffee, gas, and torn road maps. There's more than that, but she doesn't understand it, and I don't know if she ever will. |
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