Sher could barely breathe. What did that mean? Did he know she’d stabbed that man? Was he going to arrest her? She wanted to run, move her body under the sun as it traveled over the railroad ties, as it played among the leaves above her until bits and pieces of it settled on the grasses, ferns, and stones.
“You two. Bag in back.” Jerry pointed at two fry boys.
“Geez.” One of them walked around the front of the stand, cutting off Sher’s view of the man. “Why’s it always me?”
Then Sher saw the man’s shoes splayed outward under long dirty jeans. We’ll find them sooner or later floated through her mind. The man from the bus depot. Her energy left her body the way her dogs had worked the marrow out of lamb bones, and then gulped the white lump of fatty tissue that popped out. She’d made a te
