page25 (1/2)

I don’t knohat’s going on, but I know I’ to make it another ing round as I wrench the blindfold from my eyes

“Three hours,” a soft voice says,me flinch with surprise

I blink, waiting forin a lawn chair a few feet away, holding a book with a reading light clipped to the top of it in her lap

“What the hell is going on?” I des as I throw the blindfold to the dirt at my feet

We’re parked on a blanket of pine needles about fifty feet fro around, I expect to see other campers, but we’re alone Wherever she’s taken round

“You made it three hours,” she repeats in a calm voice “I made it thirty thousand”

I shake my head, unable to hide my frustration “What?”

“Four years That’s over a thousand days, and over thirty thousand hours” She closes her book but keeps the light on It illuhtness in her jaw and the emotion in her eyes

It isn’t one I can easily place It lives soer and hope, in the no man’s land of emotion where people so often find the to name, but not a hard one to empathize with

It’s the sa in that car—miserable and abandoned, but with a tiny voice beneath it all praying for a miracle, for Lark to come back and take the pain away

My bunched shoulders drop away from my ears My hands unclench at my sides I understand now

I should have understood all along

“You wanted round near her feet, not ready to look her in the eye

“No, there’s no way you could kno I felt,” she says “Three hours can’t teach you everything there is to know about thirty thousand, but I hoped it ive you a taste”

I nod “It did”

“You were angry”

“I was,” I whisper

“And sad”

“And pretty sure I’d been throay,” I finish, a fresh wave of sha over me I think of the misery I felt and multiply it times ten thousand