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'I walked to Montevallo.'
'Forty miles?!'
'Forty-two,' he corrected me. 'Well. Forty-two there. Forty-two back. Eight-two miles. No. Eight-four. Yes. Eighty-four miles in forty-five hours.'
'What the hell's in Montevallo?' I asked.
'Not much. I just walked till I got too cold, and then I turned around.'
'You didn't sleep?'
'No! The dreams are terrible. In my dreams, she doesn't even look like herself anymore. I don't even remember what she looked like.'
Looking for Alaska
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