I paused, knife in hand, as the fire crackled and popped.
“I—I came to sift ashes,” I said—quietly, obliquely—but did not elaborate.
“You came ... to sift ashes,” she said, and nodded once, twice. “Okay. I’ll play. Why not. And these ashes are here, in Las Vegas?”
“In the suburbs, yes. On Canosa Avenue. It—it’s all so foggy. I haven’t been back for a very long time. But I’ll know the way once I find the gas station.”
“The gas station.”
I nodded. “The one on the corner. The RGB. If it’s still there.”
“I see. And—and what do you plan to do with me?”
I looked at her in the firelight—at her auburn hair, which blazed in the fire’s glow, and her green eyes, which caught the light and glimmered. “It is my wish that I should continue hearing your voice,” I said.
She peered at me intensely,
