Day 365 - 365

365

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

 

The weather report called for rain, but the sky was empty and the land was dry. She poured his coffee high and a drop splashed out onto the table, but neither of them seemed to notice. The man added a hint of the half and half because the last cup she brought was a little bit burned. After taking a sip, a tiny trail ran down the side of the cup, leaving a stain in its wake. The turkey and ham were fat and tough with gristle, the toast was burnt and the lettuce seemed like it had been left out. He would have sent the whole plate back but was slightly afraid of what the kitchen might come up with next. The road was long and he had hours to go. The diner was a welcome respite, but he couldn’t waste the time. The meal would have to suffice.

The rain never materialized, or maybe he was driving in the opposite direction. There were plenty of reports and videos of waves and floods and cars losing control. He had miles and miles to go and couldn’t be troubled with what could have been him. There was still too much to be done.

The piano man looked like a brawler, with his baseball cap and beard and stocky build. His shirt was three buttons undone and his sweat and chest hair glistened in the spotlight. The bass was heavy and a man played slide guitar, while an out-of-tune singer belted out something resembling pain and sorrow. A couple was making out in the hallway towards the men’s room. The graffiti told him he was old and out of touch and no longer knew the right slang or symbols or codes. Still, there was a metal trough to piss in, which told him he was in the right type of dive bar. A woman by herself had eyed him all night. Her hair fell forward and her face was long and thin. The darkness hid what the darkness hid, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was really after. He was a stranger in town and strangers didn’t often attract attention, unless something else were amiss. His pride wanted it to be because he had fought the rapidly increasing years, but his heart couldn’t help but worry about his empty wallet or else what sort of damage would make someone so young so interested in someone like him.

The sun hadn’t even cracked when he got on the road. The miles stretched and there was gas to burn and radio stations to scan. Somewhere further on down the line were old friends to laugh with and road side diners to try. The wide-open countryside called out and he couldn’t help but answer. There was nothing to tether him. No one to pull him back or keep him down. As the song says, he was free. Slip out the back or a bird with wings or whatever analogy the singer wanted to sing. The lonely road was his calling companion. Somewhere someone was waiting, calling, thinking of him. Somewhere some adventure was to be had. Nowhere to go but forward. That was the only way to move. The only thing back was faded photos and dusty roads he’d never see again. There were a smile or two that haunted him still, but he tried not to think about them.