The road was impassable as well, but probably only for another couple of hours. Tomorrow they’d be on their way back home, all of them wiser. Too wise, maybe. Ethan walked the length of the motel before he found the glass-fronted diner across the street, then had to make his way across the pavement to the parking lot. Walking through the snow took more out of him than he’d expected, and he pushed his way through the swinging door, cold, his jeans and shoes wet. The restaurant was crowded, though the few cars in the parking lot were covered with snow. Every red vinyl booth was occupied, every barstool filled. Families and truckers, men traveling in pairs and a group of women sitting together. Everyone here must be from the motel, and they must be suffering from the same stir-craziness he was. A beautiful young woman smiled at him from that booth full of women, and for a moment, he considered returning the smile with more friendliness than he meant, just to feel in balance, in control again.
