Hungry Wanderer

I sweat when I walk. And I walk a lot. It’s a good thing, sweating; releases whatever is built up inside you, all that energy your body absorbs.

I have a problem taking in more than I can handle. That’s one reason why I’m walking all the time. From town to ghost town, from highway to dusty road. It’s a living. I didn’t mean or plan for it to be this way. I was just kinda born into it.

Well, I got a long way between here and the nearest settlement. I can tell you about what happened in the last town I went to — a little dot on the map called Casper, about five miles back southeast.

I arrive on foot, in the morning. Like how I always come across a new town. Strange, as if probability is stacked against me. Anyway, I enter Casper. It ain’t much. Two roads that intersect in the center, forming a town square. Each road is about three miles long. You can walk the entire town in a few hours. And I do. I walk around it twice.

I count as I walk. One general store. One school. One clinic. One bar/restaurant. One small bookstore/cafe — I guess for the non-drinkers. One church; Presbyterian, if you’re wondering. About fifteen or so houses. Real small, quaint. A nowhere town.

It’s early, pre-dawn. I’m hungry and I don’t see no people during my first walkabout. I continue walking and my hunger gives way to sadness; sadness…