From time to time I flinch as a large drop of water, having pooled in the leaves high above, catches the back of my neck. This subtle reminder doesn’t let me forget how weak and cold and alone I am. I look up into the canopy to search for some sort of illumination and warmth, but this is blocked by the very leaves that are crying upon me. They deny me any such respite but continue to point their arms away, encouraging me to do no more than leave them alone.

After the most lonely and miserable walk I have ever taken, I begin to hear a steadier roar of traffic. Instead of one car every twenty minutes, I hear one every few minutes. I must be close to something, and my body is screaming for me to run out into the road and cry for help, but I also must still be cautious. I am on the run and still in my jail garb.

I continue walking and soon realize I am near the intersection of two highways and all the standard establishments that accompany such a splendor of human convergence. A gas station, a truck rest stop, and a handful of fast food spots. I assess my appearance and decide that the truck rest stop is my best bet. If I get lucky, maybe one of the truckers will have left their cab unlocked. I could pop in, borrow some clothes, sneak into the rest area and take a quick shower. Then I could move freely about the area.

During a brief pause in the traffic I cross to the parking area of the truck stop. I am trying to sneak as best as I can, but it is broad daylight, and I must look like a miniature sasquatch.

I check the first truck after scanning for any onlookers and try the door. Locked. Fuck. I move to the next vehicle and the next with no success. Finally, on my fourth go, I find the door locked but the window wide open. I reach in and lift the lock from its resting place and let myself in. I quickly climb past the two front seats toward the back bench. At first, I am surprised that I am only catching the smallest whiffs of cigarettes, stale sweat, urine, and pork rinds, before realizing that the magical scent masker is none other than myself.

I find a small duffle bag under the bench and reach inside. I pull out some underwear, a pair of jeans, and a green checkered flannel shirt. “That’ll do,” I whisper to myself.