this morning #647.

this morning, he sat with his feet dangling off the back of the pickup, periodically kicking up dust while he waited for the man to show up. across the street & through the trees, that damn dog was emitting its usual yip at nothing in particular once again. there was never quiet to be had in these here parts, especially in the mornings as the complex came to life. he wondered how much longer he’d have to wait & kept checking his phone, as if he’d find answers there. the back pain was starting to creep back in & it wouldn’t cease until relief roared around the corner in the form of a man with a mullet in a mustang. for now, a little nicotine would have to do.