In the thin shade of the ditch sat an elderly couple, so still and dust-covered they looked almost unreal. The man wore a frayed work shirt buttoned to the throat despite the heat. The woman beside him was small and slight, her silver hair escaping a loose braid. She held his forearm with both hands as if she were afraid that if she let go, the world might take him too.
“Hey,” Claire called. “You folks okay?”
The man lifted his head. His face was all planes and lines, worn by time into something severe until his eyes gave him away. They were pale blue and exhausted clear through to the soul.
“We’re resting,” he said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
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