Nebraska

After Lincoln, we traveled through miles of brindled beige landscape. With only 60 miles left of fuel, 235 miles left to Denver and no town on the horizon, we pulled off the highway for gas at a lone station in the midst of corn fields. She cleaned the windshield while I started the pump. Leaning against the car scanning the surroundings, I noticed the sign. YOU ARE NOWHERE. It was true; we really were out in the middle of nowhere, between destinations in an unfamiliar state.

She finished the windshield. “I’m going inside. Need anything?” she asked.

“No,” I said continuing to pump, observing the scraps of nowhere around us. The pump clicked  FULL, I got my receipt and waited by the car. I read the sign again. YOU ARE NOW HERE. This too was true. We had made such progress, we had a full tank and yes, we were right where we needed to be at that moment. She was smiling as she walked out under the sign and we both got in the car and moved on.

NOWHERE

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