The hiking trail had been a refreshing interlude but he always came back to the same place. Facing the dehumanizing blocks of motel rooms, Richard sagged wishing he could stay among the trees with a roof of clouds and sky.
But she didn’t like to camp, said sleeping bags made her itch, and motels served a free breakfast.
“I can’t face it all again and especially her.” He stopped to glare at the suite of prison cells. “Hell with it.”
He turned around. The sun would set soon and he would be alone. Richard wondered who would find his bones.









