She lights up a cigarette, opening the window all the way and feeling the wind on her face, hearing it swoop and whistle around her head as she drives...through the night, wondering how long it will take before she feels able to go home again. She doesn’t understand why, for her, home is somewhere to run from rather than run to. Perhaps it’s the loneliness, the feeling of being trapped somewhere, alone and unwanted. Sometimes she longs to have someone to curl up on when she feels like this, a. She wasn’t receptive, of course, but I’d keep it up. Nothing too forward, just subtle hints.“Hi, Kara, you’re looking very nice today.”“W-W-what?” she stammered.“I said you’re looking very nice today. I like that blouse a lot.”She just stared at me, flustered by the fact that I was being nice. I liked it!Tuesday and Wednesday were more of the same, Kara was still flustered by me being nice and complimenting her. After physics class, I found Mr. Yockey to let him know I’d be driving to Glen Este. Those nearest the front stretched out their arms, one on top of the other, all of them trying to reach the wayward pair, most especially the Light-Eyed One. Sala reached an anxious hand to the man beside her, needing the security of his touch, and found his moist from apprehension as well. She knew, they both knew, their reappearance would cause an uproar, but neither had been quite prepared for an almost frenzied reaction. A loud, shrill whistle sliced through the air, silencing the shouting. .. to look and say, “Guatemalans,” in disparaging tones. I give them the evil eye when they do.I have hit bedrock and am cleaning my way down stream. Should I ever decide to go into competition with Taylor Sand and Gravel I could make a bundle ... if it weren’t for the gold I probably would. My dredge is such that the small water tumbled rocks fall off the end of the sluce onto the far creek bank.When each day is done I washed my fines from the miners moss into five gallon buckets, concentrate.
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