At the traffic lights the man in the next car raises his eyebrows. Is it threat or invitation?***The drive to work and home again punctuated his days. That flat backwards stretch gave him a pocket in time where he could lay his mind flat like the road and let his thoughts expand. A few other cars jutted along the highway, all of them the wrong way, against the traffic. He crossed the imaginary line every morning, from a small town almost far enough away from the city to be called country and not close enough to be a suburb, out to the districts, the opposite way of the rest of the traffic.Across the pastures that stayed green even in the middle of drought, he recalls a time when he thought of being a dairy farmer. He smirks a bit, keeping his eyes on the road. Good money but hard hours and now all the farms have been bought up by the big companies. Instead he ended up on a couple of acres with some fruit trees down the back and a nine to fiver job like everyone else. Oh well.***From. Tammy caught me looking and blushed. Beth stifled a laugh and made a face at me. Tammy said she had to pee and my wife indicated that she would stay with her."I'm going on," I informed them, "I thought I heard someone pull into this camping spot awhile ago. I think I'll stop and say hi." Okay," Beth answered, "We won't be far behind."I walked up the trail and through the woods at a good pace, curious to see who our neighbors were. As I entered the campsite, I saw a blue van and two tents that had already been set up. I then noticed the three college aged black men sitting at the picnic table. I was about to say something, when a fourth black man stepped out of one of the tents. He walked up to me with his hand outstretched."I'm Richard," he said, "You must be from the other camp," he continued, as he gestured up the path towards where our site lay. "We heard you and some girls splashing around in the river." Yeah, my wife and daughter," I replied as I shook his hand, "They should be.
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