The coffee at the highway rest stop tastes like it was brewed in a grease trap. It's perfect.
I sat in a plastic chair that had been glued to the floor by decades of desperate travelers and drank it slowly, watching the interstate flow past like a river of steel and light. Trucks. Sedans. A semi with a dented trailer that said "FRED'S FISH & CHIPS" in letters that had peeled off one letter at a time until it just said "FRED'S FI." Three days. It had been three days since I ran. Three...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 8 مشاهدة 0 معاينة