It's five a.m., and the sun starts her climb into the northern hemisphere. A tinge of orange peaks over the railing of the grain silo's across the highway; a row of semi's idle in the parking lot in front of them. Steam rises from my to to-go coffee cup. I find a window ledge, sit, and light a cigarette. My eyes close, I exhale, and my head lays back against the glass.
"That kind of night, huh?"
"What?" I jerked my head up. An elderly man with weathered skin and knotted hands stands next to me. He sips from his to-go coffee.
"May I join you?"
"Uh, yeah," I skid across the brick away from the man. His sun-bleached pants crumple like satin. I flick my cigarette and inhale. The hum of idling diesel engines encompasses the morning air. We watch the sky melt from dark purple to orange to yellow, and stars become blanketed by the sun. I take a sip of coffee, and the old man copies.
"Where you headed?"
"Someplace west."
"That so?" He lifts his cup and pauses, "I headed that way once at about your age," he takes a sip. "Didn't find much of nothin' I couldn't get at home." He takes another sip, and his pale eyes stare off towards the silos. I sag my head and watch the steam curl up and away from my cup.
"What were you looking for?" I turned to look at him.
"What I thought home couldn't offer," he takes a long drink of his coffee and smacks his lips. He rises, his jeans falling smooth, and throws his cup away, "anyways, you take care of yourself and have a good one." He strides casually towards the trucks swaying his head to the left and right. I watch him haul himself up into a cobalt and chrome Peterbilt.
"Hmm," I grunt. There's no steam coming out of the lid, and I throw the half-sipped coffee away. The bulbous sun is behind the silos now, and the cobalt and chrome Peterbilt pull away. I stand there until the truck is gone before heading to my car, unsure if I should continue.
