"You don't have to think. I'll drive."

############

Laura glanced down, over her raised cup of coffee, at Myers's bowl of oatmeal. "I see you're turning over a new leaf," she observed with a wan smile.

Myers speared a grape with his fork as he swallowed his latest spoonful of mush. "Not really. I just realized that there are reasons other than longevity for eating right."

"Like constipation?" Laura asked with the same smile.

"You said it; not me." Myers spooned up more of his breakfast.

"...We are interrupting this live news conference to bring you breaking developments from the Middle East. A rash of suicide bombings--"

Laura's mouth hung open over her coffee. "It's started--"

Myers looked across the roadside cafe at the television set in the opposite corner. "What?"

"Suicide bombers. Now they know there's a heaven for them--"

"Don't be silly: the tape only aired last night." Myers reached for a slice of dry whole wheat toast.

A murmur passed through the crowded dining area, and Laura turned her head to listen to the gossip in the booth behind her. She turned back, to face a Myers eating his breakfast in oblivion and murmur to him, "They've closed the border."

Only now did Myers look up at her. "Why?"