"Maybe," Will said. "Maybe she'll marry one of those rich guys and live happily ever after."
The sky outside the window had turned from black to light gray. "Getting light." He left a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Thanks for the company."
"You stop in next time by, you hear?"
"O.K. What's your name?"
"Lee."
"O.K., Lee. I'll do that. I'm Will. Take it easy."
The car started right up, that was one good thing. He drove off, adjusting the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of the diner before he went around a curve. He and Heidi had made a whole, and now she was gone. He drove, and, as the daylight grew stronger, he thought about the diner—that little room of light in the dark, Lee, and the man talking about his box. That was something you could hang on to.
Guayaquil
At the sound of wooden blocks struck together, Arthur adjusted his sitting position and emptied his mind. The echo diminished to a memory and changed to a tree. A palm tree. Not this again. An expanse of empty beach curved to a familiar headland. Sometimes his grandmother would appear, coming toward him on her fitness walk, legs moving quickly, scarcely bending at the knees, like the birds that chased and retreated at the water's edge. She never noticed him.
This morning Penn stepped from the water and approached, his long thin body tanned ivory brown, his eyes blue-green, clear as a cat's. Things came easy to Penn. Arthur exhaled the past and inhaled it again. Not that way, he told himself. No struggle. Let it float away. He straightened and followed his breathing. Penn disappeared as casually as he had twenty years ago.