Crane, Oregon sized up its reasons for cautious optimism.
They struck her as a hedged bet. If optimism was cautious, it probably couldn’t withstand much of a challenge.
She was swept along on floodwaters of discontent and carried through dim light into a room of yellow voices. They sneered and handed her back all the torment she thought had been left behind.
If she had stayed put on Hilgard Avenue, or perhaps even Laurel Avenue, she could have avoided all this. That’s not how it played out in Crane, Oregon.
