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A MeetingHe sits alone. Smoking his last cigarette on the train. Fumbling with his camera. Not too many people take the train these days. But he does. And so does she.
She's skinny and lanky. She wears clothes that are far too big for her. They drape over her as she pours into her seat on the train. Neither of them move. But the train does. It moves forward, to their destination. Carrying them along.
A man walks by; he taps our man on the shoulder.
"There's no smoking allowed on the train," he says.
So our man sighs, and puts out his last cigarette.
"Don't be so down, it's a nasty habit anyway." He says.
Our girl looks up, curious, but she does nothing more. After all, there is nothing more to do. She grabs her book out of her bag and she begins reading. But she's not reading the book. Instead there's a clipping inside. That's what she's interested in. Just that clipping.
After a while, our man asks about her book. She confesses.
"So then what's that clipping about?" he as
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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