I got my breakfast (black coffee and a blueberry muffin) at a truck-stop Dunkin Donuts on the way to my office. As I was walking out, I passed a woman. She was in her early 40s, not quite haggardly thin, with dark hair and a face pockmarked like Sadie Burke. She carried a canvas purse and a pack of cigarettes.
She stepped past me to a man sitting at a table and asked in a thin voice, “Are you going west?”
“No,” he said. “Where you headed?”
“California.”
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