“I’m at the Fairfield Inn & Suites by the Interstate.”“Did you drive here?”“Nope. I took the Amtrak from D.C.”“Into Wilson,” he chec...ed.“Yep,” nodded Malak. “I like riding the train.”“That’s what’s up! How did you get here today?”“A nice lady who works for the president picked me up.”“I can drive you back if you want,” the young man offered.“I don’t want to impose.”“Trust me it’s cool. My mom and nan would kick me in the forehead if I didn’t offer.”“Well, okay!”“Can we get a. She supposes that if anyone owned her back, it was her late husband, as he was the only one ever to see it regularly. Even in old age she thinks of her husband at least once every day- something will rear up and remind her of that brief marriage which in time has come to seem more like an enclosure she’d stumbled upon than a legal arrangement formally entered. It is a thought I would rather repress, not relive. He is always, in her recollections, lying in bed, waiting for her, a presence, a. More

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