“You don’t miss your family and your tall buildings and cars and stuff?”

“I’ve got my car. Thanks to you.” I can almost hear his subtle smile.

“You don’t miss your parents?” I miss mine. Every day.

He thinks for a minute. His knife scrapes, and the fire crackles. The trees around the clearing and the Airstream are black outlines against a royal blue sky.

“My father’s sick, and I can’t save him. I bought him time by stepping down in favor of Nick. It’s all I could do.” He pauses. “It’s what I chose to do.”

“What’s wrong with your father?”

“Wasting sickness.”

“Shit. He hasn’t been able to...