thehourwouldcomewhenhewouldhavetogiveuphis
keys.
At thatmoment, though, he wasn’tconcerned; hewas
gladsimplyto beontheroad. Theeveningtrafficwas
thinasheturnedontoRoute138.HebroughttheCamry
toatickoverthe45-mile-per-hourspeedlimit.Hehad
hiswindowrolleddownandhiselbowonthesash.The
airwasclearandcool,andwelistenedtothesoundofthe
wheels on the pavement.
“The night is lovely, isn’t it?” he said.