She was sitting by the side of road, holding his head in her left hand. Nothing else, just his head. We wondered about it, as well we might, but we kept on going. She wasn't hitchhiking or anything, just sitting there holding his head. We didn't know who either of them were or we might have stopped, but they were strangers. As Tom said, "They're strangers, so let's not stop. Besides, I really don't want to know why she's holding his head in her left hand."

It's bothered me all these years. Why was she holding his head? And why in her left hand? Why not in her right hand? It's not as if it were still attached; she could have played soccer with it. But there she sat, holding his head in her left hand. Perhaps he had been her lover, but he did her wrong. Maybe she had simply wanted to get a head. I don't know. But the image of her sitting by the side of the road, holding his head in her left hand, has stayed with me all these years. I've mentioned it to several people, asking why they thought she might have been holding his head in her left hand, but no one has ever been able to provide an answer. I suppose that it will continue to be one of life's mysteries.