He could see the beginning of day: pink streaking the black sky. Far up, miles into the horizon, were blue splotches with dark grey clouds among them, a reflection of day curving from the other side of the earth.
He didn’t need to pretend any more.
A little after 5 a.m. he crested the rise and came swiftly down into the town. Convenience store lights picked out a yellow and white pattern, bright stones on dark concrete. Signs told him where he could get a drink, come opening time; where he could sleep, come night; where he could shop, if there was anything he wanted to shop for. Behind it all lay the mountains like heavy clouds holding down the horizon.
He didn’t need anything. He was back. And he was looking for whoever it was, he had to meet.
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