23 NoraComfortably dressed for a three-hundred-mile drive in a loose cotton sweater, faded Wranglers, and well-worn sneakers, Nora’s road trip rhythm felt perfect. She had to force herself to exit the Interstate after only half an hour behind the wheel. The prospect of seeing her toxic mother made a lot of force necessary.
Pulling into the paved lot, she drove past the four islands filled by fuel pumps. She parked the Buick in front of a low-slung cinderblock structure made welcoming by the addition of six big windows and a false half-front of vertical red planks above them. Midway, the angle of the boards sloped back, the color and design reminding her of an old dairy barn.
Spring sunlight filtered through a veil of clouds. The crimson planks glistened as if freshly-painted. White block
