After that, things with Chucho Flores got stranger and stranger. There were days when it seemed he couldn't live without her, and other days when he treated her like his slave. Some nights they slept at his apartment and when she woke up in the morning he'd be gone, because there were times he got up very early to do a live radio show called Good Morning, Sonora, or Good Morning, Friends, she wasn't sure because she never heard it from the beginning, a show for truck drivers crossing the border in either direction and bus drivers carrying workers to the factories and anyone who had to get up early in Santa Teresa. When Rosa got up she made herself breakfast, usually a glass of orange juice and a piece of toast or a cookie, and then she washed the plate, the glass, the juicer, and left. Other times she stayed for a while, looking out the windows at the sprawl of the city under the cobalt-blue sky, and then she made the bed and wandered around the apartment, with nothing to do except think about her life and the strange Mexican she was involved with. She wondered whether he loved her, whether what he felt for her was love, whether she loved him herself, or whether she was just attracted to him, whether she felt anything for him at all, and whether this was all she could expect from being with another person.