You keep looking back at the boat, back to the old man. You barely hear Ralph. His voice is tin. The hills blur past like the walls of a tunnel. The sky is dark purple, almost black, with the faintest hint of dawn ahead.

He sat in the corner of Double Happiness Donut House, as far from the counter as he could get. He eyed the woman behind the register, and took note of doors and windows. Skinny Dave said she stayed open until after the bar on the corner closed, feeding donuts to drunks as long as they were buying.

I grab my clothes, feel for the weight in my jacket pocket, and hide in the closet. It’s a cliché, I know, but it’s one that works for me. I’m very good at hiding in closets. I do some of my best work hiding in closets.