We are going on a quest for bookmarks, the free kind that you can get at a large chain bookstore that shall remain unnamed. I used to have a lot of them, but I can't find any now. Since a new semester has begun, I need more bookmarks urgently because I use two or three in each textbook: one for my current place in the book, one to mark where the homework questions are, and a third for the answers in the back of the book, if any. And not just any bookmark will do, either. But the attributes of a good bookmark are a topic for another day.
The man is driving and he turns off the interstate miles early. I don't ask why and take the ride as it comes, staring out the window at the leathery shine of the snow where it lies undisturbed. He does forget where we're going sometimes and if we're not in a hurry, I like to wait and see how long it takes for him to wake up and wonder why he is where he is.
He had a reason. His car is nearly out of gas, I remember as he pulls in to the gas station at Staples Mill and Broad, next to the Krispy Kreme Ughnuts. (Hey, the light behind the DO is burned out. I'm just documenting here.) I write out the mileage in the little notebook in the glove box and then open the car door. Being in a sealed vehicle suffocates me. Beneath the canopy, fluorescent lights wash all the colors gray and a really banal pop ballad blasts from speakers I don't bother to look for. The man tries to clean his windshield with the window cleaner that people have been using all day, but all the clean is gone and it can only smear.
The "Hot Doughnuts Now" sign blinks on, with all the letters lit. Plain glazed, gasoline, and exhaust weave through the air. The combined smells should be noxious, but it's so cold that they hit my nose one after the other, obviating any stench potential. This is how America smells tonight.
359 words | January 30, 2004 10:47 AM | Real true story