July 27 — Brooklyn

Andrew Collins
Aug 22, 2017 · 1 min read

We found a parking spot and got out of car with our backpacks.

“Look for a head of crazy red hair,” she told me.

I looked around. The street was quiet. A man was passing by on a bicycle. There was something almost mythic about this place in my mind. Brooklyn. But right now I was too tired to feel it. I’m fairly certain I could have fallen asleep right there on the curb. We wandered across the intersection towards an apartment complex. Wrong number. Now catty-corner to another large building. Also no good. There was a park where the house, or whatever kind of residence we were looking for, should have been.

After maybe fifteen minutes another text came through.

“Oh, wrong house number! That explains why we couldn’t find it.” Lauren giggled the way she did at any minor misfortune. Of course she would have the wrong house number at 11:30 at night after 24 hours of traveling.

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Andrew Collins

Written by

Lumberjack by day. Editor of Grassroots Pulse on the side. Writer and Jesus-follower at all times. If things were simple, word would have gotten around.

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