Grace tucked in her shirt and zipped up her jeans while her man Jackson moaned from the bed where they'd slept after meeting each other half way on the half awake highway.
His head was under the pillow, each of his muffled moans reflecting each ounce of GrabSum whiskey he drank from the bottle before they turned out the light lamp.
All he could remember was the hard glare of the parking lot lights and the Texaco sign pouring through the window after the room went dark. Ghost outlines lit a path to the bathroom.
Grace, though, felt fine, sticking with her bottled water the night before. It was four AM, a half hour before her shift, and all she could think about was the coffee she'd drink after pulling out from the AM/PM while on her way to the diner. It was going to be a great day, she thought.
She slammed the motel room door as she left and got into the car.
Jackson woke up and sat up in the bed. The room was still dark.
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