CROSSING THE LOT. Text: "Crossing the lot with
groceries, she stopped. It was still light out west, she knew,
mountains casting long shadows in the sunset, but where was the
sun just now sinking below the horizon? Denver? Salt Lake? Slowly,
as the last of the streetlights came on, her arms sprang from
her sides in a gentle arc and she continued on, practicing the
creep of a hazy line of darkness, inching home for dinner."