I cruise the streets late at night.
My purpose: unknown.
My activities: classified.
It’s a cold night, but my window is down. It makes it easier to ash the cigarette if my arm is just out the window.
Plus, the cold doesn’t bother me much. I was raised in it all my life. Taught to view summer as a time to be cherished and never squandered.
I take a drag of my cigarette, hang my arm on the side of the car, and look at the familiar surroundings.
The crazy hobo with the walkman was head bangin’ to his favorite heavy metal band outside the gas station. A couple of kids were approaching him, most likely trying to get him to buy them booze.
A person’s need to experiment forces them to lower their social class and raise the scum of society on a pedestal.
I shift my eyes to the right.
There are three fast food restaurants in a row.
The drive-thru lines are long.
It’s the late night munchie crowd.
These people are an underground culture within a culture.
These are their places.
The 24 hour video store is invites it’s people in with its enormous neon glow.
I drive pass, look inside, and see the dreary faces of the few who patron the establishment at such late an hour or early an hour, depending on how you look at it.
My eyes caught something out of it’s peripherals.
The magnitude of its message moved me.
The towering obelisk of advertisement beckoned me.
My car turned instinctively turned right, found a parking spot, and turned off the ignition.
I sat in the car a few minutes, to finish my cigarette.
I think about what I’m hungry for.
It’s late at night.
I finish my cigarette, put in some eye drops, spray my deodorant, and head inside.
Perkins is open twenty four hours, which is good. I always need a place to go.
Insomnia is a bitch I hate to ****, but I do.
I crank my head up to look at the green neon logo. My eyes strained for a second.
I head inside.
“Hi there. Table for one?”