A piece I wrote on late spring road trip appears in a cool new-to-me e-zine (tldr).
Breakfast. In the old stockyards. Walk in, I’m the only woman other than the
tough competent waitress.
Rich keeps his hat on. Smoking section—one black guy at table of white guys.
Big working guys. I can’t help but worry—Donald Trump supporters?
It helps to be old in these situations, as I now am, white haired.
In the smoking section, a guy now lights up a cigar.