I was waiting for the call at the telephone booth. I’d been waiting for fourteen or seventeen minutes and finally, I decided to leave. It was pointless. I only had a 20-dollar bill on me and no coins for the slot. Hard rain was coming, some type of storm already brewing in the sky. It was dark. The tops of trees were bending in the wind. I consulted the map I had—that’s all I had to be exact: a map, a twenty-dollar bill and a packet of gum in my pocket. And my soul: my soul on sale. I had circled on the map the spot where the crossroads were, though it would be crazy to go in that weather. I had to find a rest stop. On the map, there was a motel, a little while away and I wouldn’t even have to go off the route. I could have a good night’s sleep, eat, then get on the road again. After the crossroads, where I’d sell my soul, I’d walk on until I hit the highway, where I’d hitchhike to the nearest town, then take the train back. That sounded sensible to me. And it wasn’t like I was in a hurry—there weren’t any debt collectors chasing me.
I began walking and gathered my thoughts, leaving away the semantics. Dinner, sleep, breakfast, rest, walk, crossroads, soul-selling, walk, hitchhike, train. All in two days’ work, not a big deal. I hurried my step. A drizzle had begun.
