Wayside, Kansas

A fine residue of clay powders my leather duster and leaves boot marks on the old wooden floor. It’s always a gamble, this spin of the dial. Tomorrow, perhaps a crumpled envelope bearing a slanted impress of black. Next week, a squat brown parcel, decidedly quotidian in its arrayment, given its most extraordinary contents.

But today. What of today? A warm prairie wind yawns through the creaking building, rustling a yellowed calendar on the wall. An intake of breath, a firm twist to the right, then left. Empty.

The sun sets low, and there are miles to cover before the stars spread their canopy. With any luck, I’ll snare a rabbit for supper. And tomorrow, well tomorrow can wait.

Music: Call Me by Blondie (lyrics)