She had given up around 4 in the morning, facing the fact that she didn't know where Murph's was anymore, and failing to find it in the Yellow Pages at the all-night iHop on West Jefferson. Exhausted, fighting tears and fears, she steered the ancient Volvo toward the sunrise and her studio apartment overlooking the grime of Alvarado Boulevard.

She threw her clothes on the floor, threw some cold water on her face, threw some food into a saucer for the cat, and threw herself face down on the small bed, collapsing into dreams in which she was searching for something she couldn't ever find.