The road answered it, the people answered it, they became each other’s answer, and you were buried proper with people at your grave who loved you, and nobody had to see your mail pile up to find you gone.

That is what we built out there, in the shadow of losing the thing I thought was holding us.

We found out it had been ours to hold all along.

Chapter 16 — The Route

Sometimes I drive it still.

Not to deliver anything — I’ve nothing to deliver, and it isn’t mine anymore.