But, honestly, the way she’d said it gave him the impression that she didn’t actually think he would listen.

She was right.

He spent about ten minutes staring out the window before leaving, pulling the door shut behind him. He heard the lock click into place.

He jogged down the stairs and to the street. It was a clear, slightly cool day. Really nice weather for November. He’d rarely been to Texas, but he’d heard that the quarantine zone was unbearably hot about six months out of the year. He desperately hoped he wouldn’t be around to experience that for himself.

Maisie lived in the center of what was once downtown Austin, and he spotted a few things that advertised the zone’s roots. A sign for the Austin library. ATX carved into a sidewalk. People still talked about rebuilding Austin.

Of course, that would require a cure for everyone inside, which hadn’t happened.

Or a bombing.

Some of the old storefronts on the street were boarded up, and he kept walking, turning a corner until he was in a more crowded area. There were some street vendors here—a small group of people selling fruits and vegetables, and a man selling some “healing balms” that looked suspiciously like plain lotion to Lennon.

A woman was standing at a cart advertising churros, and he slowed as he walked by. She clamped her tongs together a few times, gesturing at the churros.

“¿Quieres un churro?” she asked, then shook her head and said, “Do you want one?”

“No, thank you.” He spoke some Spanish, but he nearly always felt too self-conscious to speak it around people unless he absolutely had to. He was pretty sure that his accent was terrible.

She sighed.

“I mean, I would, but I don’t have any money. Or, uh, credits. You call them credits, right?”

The wrinkles at the sides of her eyes became more pronounced as she peered at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing. Sorry. Ignore me.” He flashed her a smile.

“Put that away.” She wagged the tongs at him.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“That smile. You’re trying to get a free churro, aren’t you? It won’t work on me.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“This is just how I smile.” He showed her again.

She snorted, dug the tongs into the cart, and produced a churro. She slipped it into a paper sleeve and held it out to him.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he protested. “I really don’t have any way to pay you.”

“Take it. They’re not selling well today anyway. I’ll have to throw half of them out tonight.”

“Thank you.” He took the churro. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re that guy who fell from the sky, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Is it obvious?” He took a bite of the warm churro and brushed sugar from his lips.

“Yes.”

He looked down at himself. He hadn’t realized he looked so out of place.

“Thank you for the churro,” he said again. “I appreciate it.”