This is an adaption of what my paper route was like when I was younger. I had to go out in rain every third morning and deliver papers. It was horrible in winter because it was still dark and none of the cars could see you. I soon after left the job because it wasn’t worth the pay I got for the work I put into it. You got given the papers then you had to fold them all and put them in bags so you could deliver them.

Every day can’t be a good day. I know that, but….

My brother has a Toyota pickup truck painted like a Zebra! It even comes with fuzzy zebra seat covers. I’m going to be writing stories about cool/random/funny events that happen with the truck.

Routine and respect for nature.

This piece is a compilation of truth and fiction: I would never speed. Driving is one of the few pleasures I can still enjoy. My head injury has robbed me of many things, but I refuse to yield to it. There are times when I can fight past the injury, but it is a constant battle and one I have yet to win.

One night, there was a man called Mr. Jamal who saw an accident on the road.

Gesture of romantic finality.

Dark places.

Two friends are big star bound.

The thoughts that can race through the mind one evening too many stopped in traffic, when what is waited for isn’t worth the wait, and what is worth a wait can’t be waited for.