Pausing again, Larry fixed Johanna in a contemplative squint. "If it makes you feel any better," he began, and reached behind him for a trowel, "America had technically gone to shit by the time I left. Technically, it wasn't even America anymore. Not the country of, anyway."

He rolled his shoulders and began to dig around the roots of one of the more stubborn weeds. "Where is it that you're from?"