Nobody hitchhikes anymore. That went out in the ’60s when Nam vets and the hippies with their thumbs out could be found along any West Coast highway. But hitchhiking in January? Even some stoned freak knew better. Besides, it’s 2024 and I’m almost 80. This is stupid, really stupid. Maybe I can blame my poor judgment on dementia. But then, if I can understand what dementia is all about, I probably don’t have it.
I’ve already bit my tongue; I taste blood. I can’t feel the ends of my fingers. I’m such an idiot.
Continue reading “Cold by Terry Sanville”
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