Grace, Fallen from

Map

61 MAP The฀lines฀aren’t฀really฀boundaries,฀not฀ the฀edges฀of฀anything,฀the฀woman฀said. I฀followed฀her฀hand, ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ point฀A฀to฀point฀C. B฀was฀all฀blue and฀she฀skipped฀it.฀฀C฀was฀a฀dot with฀a฀circle฀around฀it,฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ a฀city,฀voices, everyone฀talking฀at฀once,฀ a฀cacophony.฀฀So฀quiet฀in฀the฀car฀ before฀I฀turned฀on฀the฀motor, ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ map฀on฀the฀seat ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ open,฀a฀map฀so฀sure฀ of฀itself.฀฀And฀rivers,฀ no฀color฀at฀all,฀jagged, ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ indifferent฀to฀land,฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ cross-angled,฀irrational฀ though฀of฀course,฀they฀ move฀toward฀a฀wide฀place,฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ a฀delta,฀slow฀ magnet,฀such฀water,฀ an฀ocean.฀฀I฀could฀sit฀staring฀for฀hours฀ like฀that,฀I฀tell฀myself฀now,฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ for฀hours,฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ an฀exaggeration฀that฀might฀ please฀a฀child฀who฀does฀ almost฀nothing฀for฀hours.฀฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ But฀it฀did.฀฀It฀took฀ 62 hours฀to฀cross,฀only ten฀inches฀long฀in฀my฀car,฀ten฀inches฀ wide,฀square฀of฀busy ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ exactitude.฀฀What฀I฀love—฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ the฀swatches฀of฀silence,฀ an฀inch,฀two฀inches,฀a฀bare฀spot,฀ pale฀yellow฀where฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ nothing฀had฀happened. ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ In฀fact฀I฀drove฀ through฀a฀universe,฀fields, their฀intricate฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ wildlife฀of฀insects and฀beans,฀civilization฀of฀mice and฀moth฀and฀corn,฀windfall, the฀great฀trees ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ finally฀over฀in฀an฀instant. ...