reminding themselves that they existed. He stood and he hurt and he looked at the shadows of the
trees and the direction of the light and he reckoned his bearing. While he was doing so, he saw a fawn
and it's mother moving through the brush some ways off. They may have seen him, but they could
have just walked on for their own reasons. He started walking, too.
After an hour he came upon a dirt road, and then he followed that northward. He saw one or
two pickup trucks go by but didn't really pay attention to them. After a while he came to a crossroads.
He picked the far corner and he sat in it.
Finally, after most of the morning had passed a pickup truck came out of the northeasterly road
and slowed to a halt by him. Joe watched it come. He kept his eyes low.
"Who you?" said a voice from the truck.
Joe looked at the face behind the wheel but it was shadowed. He said nothing.
The door of the truck opened. A fat man got out. He scowled at Joe. "Who you?" he said again.
"Nobody," said Joe.
"Nobody?" said the fat man.
Joe shook his head.
"Don't like nobodies."
"I don't like them either."
The fat man spat. "Where you from?"
"It ain't there anymore."
"Hmm."
Joe looked down the road. No one else was about. For miles, probably.
"That don't mean you need to be here," said the fat man.