Just outside Denver, I dig two bags of ice out of the metal freezers at the gas station. The cold is refreshing against my skin in the ninety-eight-degree August heat. Colorado is as brown and dry as New Mexico, though the Rockies look bluer here. The heat, the congested interstate, and the endless swath of pump jacks along the highway have made me tense. I’m hoping to reach Wyoming before the sun sets.
To read the essay, purchase Tin House Magazine, Volume 20, Number 4 (The Final Issue)