Midday
I look both ways and cross the road. It’s a hot day. Not unseasonably hot. But I am already looking forward to the aggressive air conditioning that will welcome me at my destination. There’s a police car coming from the opposite direction. It drives slowly. The sun is right overhead; it is oppressive, but consistent. Easy enough to get used to. My thoughts drift. I will be there in twenty minutes. What can I afford for lunch? It should not look like I have no money. But I do have no money. I kick dust into the air. The gravel makes a pleasing sound. Is it pleasing? It is familiar, it is home. I don’t like that word. What is home? My old building was brought down by dynamite. Is this something you can mourn? There is another building up there now. No sign of the complex where I spent the first decade of my life. I feel a sense of foreboding; I am going to live the rest of my life so. I will leave nothing behind, I cannot take anything with me. There is not much room in my pock...