Anton, Colorado was where she finally found gas.
Inside the Anton Co-op, she paid with cash. The credit card processor was still down.
The clerk said it was her first day back from a week’s vacation. She’d been in Reno playing bingo with her mom.
Somebody had left a splintered palate on the dusty parking lot. A phone booth without a phone shuddered in the dry, gray wind.
Out on US Route 36, a Peterbilt loaded down with corn and driven by a man who’d been awake too long barreled west through Anton, Colorado.
