They’re still asleep right now. All three of them, piled together under that thin blue blanket like it’s the coziest thing in the world. I watch their chests rise and fall and pretend—for just a second—that this is a vacation.
We pitched the tent behind a rest stop just past the county line. Technically not allowed, but it’s quiet, and the security guy gave me a look yesterday that said he wasn’t gonna kick us out. Not yet.
