A Story 2: Exhausting Trucks, Tired Breathing, and Sleeping Legs.

A Story 2: Exhausting Trucks, Tired Breathing, and Sleeping Legs.

My shift had ended a few minutes ago and my left leg was asleep all the way up to my ass. The damp asphalt – and as a result a wet butt – was the only indication that it had rained in the past few hours. I had worked from 4 p.m. until 10 p.m and the weather had been clear both when I entered and left the building.
I was looking at a sketch that I had found crumpled on the ground resting up against the curb. It was a colored pencil drawing of the front of the Walmart I was sitting at. Dirt and water obscured roughly a third of the picture.
I walked forward, shook my leg that shivered with crawling ant irritation, and turned around so I could see most of the store.
Kids to my right, trapped in a locked car waiting for their parents made an abrupt and disturbing noise that was meant to sound like the barking of a dog.
A car drove through a parking space and stopped suddenly to my left, its headlights beaming at me, illuminating the crossed out name Hank Kline on the sketch I now held aloft in order to compare it with the store with reality. I looked over at the truck as it honked its horn to see a pale skinny thirty something women with vague eyebrows and pulled out eyelashes and two glaring light blue eyes staring at me. While pulling her lips slightly apart revealing a front tooth with a prominent white spot, she lazily held up her left hand and gave me the finger.
I moved out of her way and looked back at the sketch, comparing it with the building. I couldn’t make out the name again without the light of her headlights. The drawing was awful and no amount of water damage gave it artistic merit. Whoever Harry was he couldn’t draw for a damn. The ground line was straight enough but the top of the store front curved down at a lazy arc. The letters varied in size. At one point the picture evolved into the third dimension with some lines stretching back and minor shading. I folded it up, slid it into my pocket, ran my hand through my hair, and started to walk home, but only got to the curb where the parking lot ends where I sat back down with an exhausted glaze. Air left me quicker than it seemed to enter as I played with my breathing.
The lights in the parking lot were out in full showing tonight and I supposed someone should enjoy them.


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