The fluorescent lights of the gas station hummed against the darkness like tired insects. I sat on the weathered bench outside, clutching a paper bag from the pharmacy\u2014blood pressure medication, the pharmacist had said, and please take it with food. At sixty-seven, my body had become a collection of warnings and prescriptions, small surrenders to time that I pretended not to notice.The night air carried the smell of gasoline and fried food from the convenience store. I should have been home already, but my legs ached from the walk, and I\u2019d learned to listen when they demanded rest. The bus had dropped me here, still two miles from my rented room on the edge of town. I\u2019d make it eventually. I always did.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The fluorescent lights of the gas station hummed against the darkness like tired insects. I sat on the weathered bench outside, clutching a paper bag from the… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":84653,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-84652","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"yoast_head":"\n