something concerning everything occurring

Samuel putting together a wildflower bouquet for his momma and a tiny shop to buy cookies, after I finally made it to Maine. My 8 p.m. flight from Boston, via New York, was canceled due to fog. In a panic—none of us wanting to miss precious time in Maine—I pitched in for a rental car with four strangers.

Roz is English and lives on her coffee plantation/cattle ranch in Costa Rica; she doesn't drink coffee or eat meat. Marsha teaches at a private girls school in Fort Worth; botany is her passion. Molly is traveling around the country for three months; she studied languages in college, but is moving to London to study physical therapy. The Irish lad—Molly's boyfriend—I never got his name, but he lives in Manhattan and was the butt of all of our which-one-of-us-is-a-serial-killer jokes, driving through rural Maine at 2 a.m.

I was the first to be dropped off, and each one of them got out of the car to hug me goodbye—friendships develop quickly with five strangers, five hours, in the night.