Pages Torn From A Travel Journal - Plot & Excerpts
A smile in my eye, I spied the dilapidated wooden sign mounted on the ramshackle building: NATE’S GAS & REPAIRS. Finally . . . Fatigue & a more than understandable shock had hindered my ordinarily brisk pace of walking. The chirping frolic of birds seemed to greet me as I approached the dingy garage–at once I felt energized in spite of my tiredness; & it was with a sudden spring in my step that I ambulated on. In a distant lot, the bus (with a hatch opened in the back, & one who could only be Nate leaning into it) was next to snag my gaze; i.e., the repairs were underway. Also, I noticed with some heartenment that those passengers who’d last evening opted for the nearby motel were returning as well.I’d had enough of this place, & now was the time for me to be gone from it.Inside the front “office” I was immediately alarmed to find the British slatternette was just coming awake upon the tattered couch, dark hair disarranged. She rubbed sleep from her eyes, squinting.
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