“Hey,” I interrupt the woman, who is digging in the truck for something. She turns around, a brown bag in her hand. “Am I in Georgia or are you in Tennessee?” Her eyebrows come together, and I know I need to try again, find better words for what I’m asking. It made sense to me in my head, and since I’m the only person I’ve been talking to for a while, I thought it would do the trick. “Where am I?” “Georgia,” she answers, handing me a water bottle. “We both are.”
