“Mama?” Anna asked tentatively. Fay’s perfectly coiffed curls were a rat’s nest. Her stockings were torn, and there were two buttons missing from her jacket. Her skirt seemed to be on backwards. Her hat and gloves seemed to have vanished, but she was clutching her purse in the hand that wasn’t clutching Anna’s sleeve. “I’m fine,” she answered, letting go of Anna’s sleeve to brush her hair with her fingers. She shook back her curls, took a deep breath, and straightened her skirt. “Let’s go,” she said, heading back to the road.