Mark's Pages

November 13, 2003:

Gasoline stop on the interstate. Wiry sunburnt attendant, baseball cap, chewing gum. Middle-aged, maybe fifty. Points out an attractive woman in the snack shop.

"We should set you up with blondie over there," he says, winking.

Wiry sunburnt boy thinks about it. Dark, unkempt hair, long. Pink mirror shades. Blue jeans.

"No thanks," he says, not winking. "Already got one."