By
IT WAS a little after 8pm and the metallic silver giant that is the Sunset Limited transcontinental train lumbered into the station in the little West Texan town of Alpine. I showed the conductor my ticket and he led me to a window seat, looking out towards the distant mountains, the Mexican border and Chihuaua, except someone had left a couple of books on my seat.
I moved them to the adjoining seat and after a while a tall, rather handsome young African-American appeared, looked down at the books and asked “Did you move my property?”