Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
How many cigarettes does it take to wait? How many cups of coffee? Paul sat in the dead-end diner with napkin firmly under coffee cup - he was told in that style, you can tell when someone was waiting - watching nothing out of the big, dust streaked pane window.
Outside, it was cold and colorless. Gritty wind whipped eddies of trash down a lonely street. A long cry from the sunny, warm surf crashing against the beach that he was anxiously anticipating to see. Here the sky was a harsh, cold blue - though dazzling bright, gave no warmth - only a bitter cold, you could feel it in your marrow.
Paul sipped more coffee, took another drag.
Across the street, a bum, the same colorless shade of everything else, stood in front of the Roman Deco post office hitting passerby for change. Paul looked around the café - a cavernous room and only he occupied it. Every sound was amplified.
El Paso is a dead, nowhere town.