Side by side at the truck stop urinals a fellow hobo said, “Great minds,” raising his eyebrows with a strange wide grin, as if he and Tristan were members of some exclusive fellowship-of-pissers.
“Sometimes…” Tristan replied, trying not to engage the eery sense that this man was placed here to interact with him for a very particular and somehow strategic reason. Who’s strategy and for what reason Tristan did not want to consider.
Outside, the International ‘long hauler’, with which Tristan had been riding, disappeared carrying the home-sewn pack he had left in the cab.
InFragments.com
First Choice