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February 26, 2007

Jim: Journey's End

The little town’s single motel, an off-center U of small rooms, promised Color TV, Air Conditioning, and flashing neon ‘Vac cy’.

The attendant, a large woman of indeterminate middle age, stared vacantly at Judge Judy on the television mounted high in the corner of lobby. “That woman sure has brains,” she mumbled while handing me the key. She then informed me that the only eatery was across the street.

Both sidewalks were empty save for a trio of shambling men with the same vacant expression as the hotel lady. All zombies, I decided.

Finally! A place I could call home.

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