36At six-thirty the next morning, the sky was pale blue with a few glimmering stars. A band of rose highlighted the horizon.
I admired the dawn colors through an inch-wide strip of windshield.
Tan roll-down vinyl blinds covered the rest of the picture-window-size glass in front of the steering wheel and padded dash.
I sat in the cushy passenger seat of a Class-A motor home and the beige vinyl upholstery chilled me through my jeans. I hugged myself, elbows tight against my black hoodie. I was glad I’d worn my thickest dark socks.
I cradled a plastic cup of high-test black coffee between my palms. I smelled more stewing in the drip machine balanced on the console beside me.
The scent floated on top of the chemical odor of vinyl.
Low evergreen shrubs, tall live oaks, and scrubby grass s
