Sitting in a Subway in Ft. Smith watching the rain 3 hours from home on a Monday afternoon after spending the day driving in a van that cooks at internal temperatures of 103 degrees after sitting in a sunlit parking lot for 2 hours.
At the Alma location, seemed like a biker’s convention – or at least a small hang-out as an unknown chapter of Chopperheads pulled in for a quick sandwich and a break from the heat riddled asphalt that is the open road.
Morning was spent fumbling in the dark for the phone as it announced its presence with some unknown urgency. Showers and smokes, returning lost wallets and fueling up after making a quick deposit at the bank. No one day the same as the other and yet it all seems so god damned repetitious.
I’d probably have to be crazy to even remotely consider my circumstances now as opposed to 4 years ago as noticeably similar.