The Miles
His feet were shoe leather tough. Asphalt, concrete, gravel, dirt. He'd walked on all of them for weeks now. Moving from town to town, looking for work or just a place to stay out of the rain. Neither was easy to find and he'd taken to sheltering wherever he could. Bus stations and train stations were good. Doorways weren't so good. Out in the open under the stars, while a nice romantic notion, was the worst.
He'd traded his shoes, nearly worn through, for a meal a few weeks ago. He'd been trading what few belongings he had and his own sweat for meals and occasionally a place to stay. He was running out of things to trade and his resolve was running thin. Still, he had to try. She was still waiting for him and they'd promised each other they would get back together for good when he had finally gotten settled in.
That had been a year ago.
There hadn't been that many bites when he'd started looking. There were fewer still each day. But he would close his eyes and see her face. That cute face she made when she was disappointed. He wanted to see that face in front of him again. She was the one thing that kept him going after all this time.
He kept walking.
The morning sun peeked over the hills in front of him. Another town. Another place to maybe make a new start.
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