The girl was easy to miss, a nondescript point on the road, as common as a rotted wooden fence leant against a patch of high grass. And he would have missed her if it were not for the pitch black of her hair fluffing up in the sun, like a crow lazing through the thick summer air. Her slender tan arm perpendicular to her body, a thumb encouraging a driver to notice her. He pulled to a stop a few feet ahead and she ran up with a sweet prance. In his rearview he could see she was wearing those flat shoes that sling around women’s feet like small nests.