Gaston walked on the shoulder close to the railing as cars whizzed by. There was no sidewalk on the endless hill, just a gravelly shoulder with scratched CD’s, crushed earbuds, flattened cigarette boxes, plastic sports drink bottles, a hubcap. Gaston had left work early because he’d been so angry. Now the exhaust, late afternoon sun, and engine noise made him more dizzy than angry and he’d lost some of his focus.

The plan had been to get home, get his gun, and go back to the place he washed dishes. However, the wind of the cars zipping by blew the thoughts right out of his head. He’d been walking forever and he still was not down this first hill yet. In his fury leaving work he’d miscalculated exactly how long it would take to walk home. Continue reading →