At the time, I thought I had plenty of days left to figure out what to say to Claire.
Later that afternoon, I'd watch a six-year-old girl nearly lose her father between shelves of bottled water.
And I'd understand how foolish I'd been to believe time was something you could keep saving for later.
I left Travis's house just after nine.
The Arkansas heat was already building.
By eleven, the highway shimmered in the distance.
My motorcycle hummed beneath me, steady and familiar.
Normally, riding cleared my head.
The wind.
The engine.
The open road.
They made life's problems feel smaller for a while.
But that morning, I kept thinking about Claire.
Her last birthday had passed without a telephone call from me.
I'd sent a card.
A plain one.
No meaningful message.
Just my name at the bottom.
I imagined her opening it.
Then I imagined her placing it in a drawer.
I hated how much that thought hurt.
Around noon, I realized my water bottle had been empty for nearly an hour.
I was hot, thirsty, and irritated with myself.
Near Conway, I saw a Walmart beside the highway.
There was a gas station across the street.
For a moment, I considered stopping there.
It would have been quicker.
But I needed water and something to eat, and the supermarket parking lot looked less crowded.
So I turned in.
One traffic light.
One decision.
One ordinary stop.
That was all.
I parked near the garden center, removed my helmet, and walked inside.
Cold air conditioning hit me so hard my sunglasses fogged.
I wiped them on my shirt and headed toward the bottled water.
I wasn't looking for trouble.
I wasn't looking for a heroic moment.
I wanted a cold drink, some beef jerky, and maybe a candy bar.
Five minutes.
That's all I expected to spend inside.
I grabbed a large bottle of water from the cooler.
Paid at self-checkout.
Then started toward the front exit.
That was when something pink appeared at the edge of my vision.
A little girl.
Light-brown hair.
Pink T-shirt.
Pink patterned leggings.
White-and-pink sneakers.
She came around the end of an aisle so quickly that she nearly collided with my leg.
I stopped.
βWhoa there, little lady.β
She looked up.
Her eyes were wide.
Her face was pale.
Then she noticed my leather vest.
Her expression changed.
She reached toward me.
And before I could say another word, her tiny fingers grabbed the leather so tightly that one of the metal snaps popped open.
That was the moment everything began.
And if I'd walked through the store thirty seconds earlier, I might never have met her at all.