by Emily Behnke USGS She’s a woman who walks at dawn. Even when cold grates against her skin. Even though she is lonely. She walks early so she can be there for a knock at the door, if one comes. She is alive because of “if.” She hasn’t seen anyone in weeks, but spots of light glow in windows at night, so she knows she’s not alone. She’s hungry, so she walks. She’s read of people who can sense hunger in others, who live to feed, and she doesn’t believe they’re real because if