Unfortunately, I can’t go into more detail, but oh god, I was home alone finally sharing in the mystical belief that I am just a passenger in this body. With no one to talk to, I was getting deep. Those fireworks were to thunder like me watering Grace’s plants was to sex. Those barking dogs were really just scared. July 5th now, and the heat index is 103, and a man is hitchhiking on Old Taylor Rd. I mean, there’s nowhere to go. “Thanks,” he said. “I need a ride and a glass of water and a sandwich and some sunscreen.” I think I'll work on being buddies during the drive. I tell him Grace is out of town and I’m lonesome and bored. I tell him I can take him as far as Kroger. “You don’t have to talk so much,” he said. “I’m not a child.” I prefer this route to the highway. It’s greener and less-traveled. I stow my desire to interview this hitchhiker. There’s this donkey grazing with the cows in a field on the right, and I don’t even point it out. Grace wouldn’t think picking up a hitchhiker was the best idea, but she already has five or six good friends. People need what they need, and in Grace’s case, I’ve decided she needs the weirdest, sharpest cactus at the grocery store. After suffering unaccompanied, it's with great joy that I ride with this quiet, fearless traveler.

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Sean Ennis’s recent work has appeared in New World Writing, JMWW, Bullshit Lit and Maudlin House. More of his work can be found at seanennis.net