It was early autumn, Arran’s favorite time of the year. He sat in a twenty-four-hour diner in a nowhere town somewhere in…well, he’d been heading vaguely west after leaving the pack in southern Illinois behind two days ago. Traveling by motorcycle suited him well. Not only was he never sitting his ass in a car again, but it gave him freedom people often took for granted.
He smiled at the waitress who had been saddled with the night shift as she came and brought him his incredibly late dinner.
“Thanks.”
She nodded and smiled back, clearly happy that he wasn’t going to make small talk or hit on her.
He dug into his hash browns and fried chicken and wondered once again if he should just try to eat healthier. He was past his mid-thirties now and even though he was in decent shape, well…it
