October 25, 2016
A kid answered the door. He wasn’t wearing pants. He had on a white Buffalo Bills T-shirt over light blue boxers, and a pair of men’s suede slippers that hung two inches beyond his heel. He was skinny and sandy-haired and pimply. His eyes were small and the whites were cloudy and yellowish but the blue iris was very bright. The warmth of the house met Tracy’s face and softened it.
“Hola,” Tracy said. She was shivering from her waist and her lips wouldn’t meet.
The kid stared at her.
She took her hand from her pocket and jerked her thumb backward over her shoulder in the direction of her truck. “I’m in a ditch,” she said.
The kid wasn’t tall enough to see over her shoulder, so she stepped to the side so he could gaze out around her.
“I don’t have my phone on me,” she explained.