6.16.2010

Black Canyon City

He gets off the bus in Black Canyon City, fetches his duffel bag, and lights a cigarette. It starts to rain. He pulls a sweater from his bag and puts it under his field jacket. The cigarette tastes good, he hasn’t had one since Phoenix. Fort Sam Houston seems a million miles away and so does that other place he needs to forget. He needs to forget a woman too.

He pulls his jacket over his head, grabs his bag and jogs down the street. Fuck, he thinks. This isn’t fair, I should be happy. By the time he pulls into the bar it's pouring and he's soaking wet.

He orders a whiskey, gets carded, pulls his ID out of his wallet, sits and waits. She asks him where he’s been. Do I know you? He asks. We went to high school together. I was two years behind you. Oh, he says. So where have you been? I don’t know, he says. I’m trying to forget. Cool, she says. Do you want to buy me a drink?

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