PORTLAND
Cold air.
The car park behind the building — shared with the dental practice next door, half full, ordinary cars belonging to ordinary people. The sky above it was the same gray and low that it had been all morning. No one is visible. No one was paying attention to the woman who had just come through the service entrance with a bag on her shoulder and was now walking toward the pedestrian exit on the left side of the car park.
I walked.
Not running.
The specific pace of someone with a destination and a reason for being where they are.
The pedestrian exit was a gap in the low wall at the left side of the car park — a pavement beyond it, a street, ordinary Thursday morning traffic. I went through it, turned left, and walked toward the bus stop.
Two blocks.
I walked them.
Th
