HAROLD LAY ON THE GROUND in front of the gas station convenience store. A vehicle pulled up. He didn’t look. He’d stopped looking years ago.
The whores started giggling. Harold turned his head. He sat up. It was finally who he’d been waiting for.
He watched a younger version of himself contemplate going into the store. Harold in the brown coat rolled to a standing position and stumbled over to Harold in the fresh shirt. His eyes darted to the single spot of blood on younger Harold’s jeans.
“What’s the matter, mister?” One of the whores said to the younger Harold. “Not lookin’ for a good time?”
When the Harold from the truck turned, the Harold in the brown coat pointed at the motel. Harold from the truck turned to follow the pointing finger. When he turned back, Harold in the brown coat
