Tony stopped and leaned against one of the few remaining light posts scattered about Main Street–the unyielding rounded steel shell wedged between shoulder blade and spine gave some welcome relief from the force of gravity.
Once a welcome pitstop for passers-through who not only brought full bladders and empty stomachs but also cash, it was fastly becoming a ghost town. Even if outsiders came to witness the curiosity of it all, noone cared enough–or felt comfortable enough–to stop.
And so, although Tony had stood there many times before, he had become more of a witness of time rather than a spectator of life. Indeed, why was Tony even there? He had asked himself that very question earlier that day, when his young and spirited eyes looked at his middle-aged face reflected in the old 2-pump gas station’s rusty bathroom mirror.
“What the hell am I still doing here?”
Tony by Reet Lago is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.