colorado 1:2
We woke up in west Colorado. I looked out the door half expecting to fall from our mountaintop room, a hundred feet to my death, but instead the land was flat, no mountains in sight. It was dark when we came in, late in another long, luckless day of searching for the kids' mother. Now they were eating cereal from waxed, single-serving boxes. They had fought over the last Sugar Pops. Jack had lost and was eating bran, reaping advantages he did not yet understand. Jill had not had a bowel movement since Arizona. If they were my kids, I'd make them both eat bran, but their diet came with them, a case of this variety cereal, a tiny amount of dried fruit, long since eaten, plus whatever I could find, their warden told me. I love you, Jack was singing to the television image of a dancing, blonde woman with cones on her head, I love you, love you love. Jill had fallen into a sugar-induced coma, spilling her sweetened milk onto the bedspread. I looked out again and saw the manager hosing down his cat. He saw me and yelled, Got into the Tank again. I nodded as if I knew which tank he meant, septic, fuel oil, drunk. If it were my cat, I thought, but nothing more came.
move on...