Vapor

there are no rights for the many
the ones already damned
the fear born into grace
they’re gonna get the helping hand
it ain’t free
it ain’t fooling me -- Countenance, Beth Orton

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The light reflected casually off the scenery that passed by the cars in transit. I sat in the driver seat, last in a slow line of cars accessing the highway; the dual exhaust of the old white sedan in front of me drew my attention as the gusts of cold wind caught the hot fumes from time to time and changed it into vapor...

I worked tonight at the TRH, and made good money for having only four tables. After work I went to a martini bar called the Warehouse to see Jared, my old room mate. It was amazing; all artsy and stuff. So novel, because there aren't things like that all over the place in this town.

I felt good about being out like that for once. I'll try to go back.