Faded, Worn, Lost

He came in without any idea of what he wanted. The light of a dead afternoon slunk in behind him, lazy and guilty. Yeah, it had been a hell of a day. He slumped against the wall a moment, taking in the rest of the place. The shelves were mostly empty, though not a speck of dust marred the pine. An old habit, but standards were standards.

In the occasional jar were moments hidden behind the last of the morning mist. Road markings disappearing under accelerating wheels. Sunshine gone orange and long as rubber thundered on abandoned tarmac.

"You've come a long way, mister."

He came back to me, then. The exhaustion of years lined his face, but he had strength in him still.

"Yes, ma'am. You got anything for me?"

"For you? You sure don't look like you need anything."

"I just... didn't think it would feel this way. So tired. Still such a long way to go."

"Time happens to all of us, my dear. Sit down and rest, but the road awaits and you must answer."

He sat down. Yeah, it had been a hell of a day.