High noon found me making my way across a barren landscape of concrete and freeway overpasses, trying my hardest to ignore the fatigued ache that crept into both my back and left knee. Shambling slowly south with a three foot tall roll of “BirdBlock” tucked under my arm, I’m sure I came across as a comical figure. I had no form of music to listen to and the heat was too bothersome to try and jot any notes of my situation down on the crumpled receipts stuffed in my purse, so for entertainment I did what I know best. I thought.
I thought about the events leading up to my situation, and I thought about money. I also thought about how bad my weekend has been so far and that this surely must be the worst part of it. But most of all, I thought about how thirsty I was and tried not to concentrate on the sore dryness of my throat. Too late I realized my mistake in not going into the convenience store and buying something cold to drink. While there, I could have also gotten some money off my debit card and then had them make change so I could catch the bus home. I had known the area to be safe, and I had known where the bus was. But in the end, an uncharacteristic cheapness set in thanks to the large quantity of money I will soon have to spend, so I began walking south towards the U-District and my home. After 1.5 miles of walking, I was about halfway home and began to calculate when I’d soon hit 65th. After a short while, all I could concentrate on was the street and its lovely collection of shops, restaurants and places that will surely have something cold to drink. I then tried to keep myself entertained by thinking about where I was going to get that icy cold blessing only money can buy when away from home. Fortunately for my wallet, I had another half a mile to walk before I reached 65th, by which time I had decided that if I stopped for any reason before I made it to my destination then I’d probably collapse into a chair and not be able to move for an extended amount of time. When I reached 65th, my movements became mechanical and I took to an ant-like method of plodding along. My excessive thinking soon slowed down to a dull silence that was occasionally interrupted by a passing interest in what cold beverages each shop carried.
Though only temporary, I completely stopped thinking about how my car had died in the middle of a busy road just before another very busy road intersected the one I was on. My memories of how I had instantly switched on the flashers and sat in the car vainly attempting to restart it were erased. My thirst, fatigue, and need to be home outweighed what happened by so much that I no longer felt stress or the need to recall crisp images of the recent events. Of course, the crisp images were still there. They were just hiding.
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