Chapter 17

Bojargis walked into the kitchen to find something to eat. The kids who usually dawdled and horse-played down the sidewalk on the way to school had already passed by.

A plot device caused Bojargis to walk over to the counter and look out the window across the street. Another neighbor, name unknown, was in the driveway doing some sort of amateur mechanicry. It appeared that perhaps he was replacing the brake pads on the Pontiac Bonneville that rarely left, but he might just have well been replacing a flat or troubleshooting a leak in the brake line.

Bojargis didn't recall, but that car had been parked in the same location the day he first saw his house. He thought for a moment about how glad he was to have reliable transportation -- but then reconsidered upon realizing that he would rather be working on his car than going in to school.

There were Pop Tarts in the cupboard, brown sugar cinnamon flavor of course. Bojargis grabbed the box and found only two remained. Ants must have eaten the rest.

He paused for a moment to consider whether he really had to go to work but shook off the feeling. It wouldn't help to imagine that other path -- the same debts and desires as always would keep him in line for the foreseeable future. How nice it would be to foresee beyond that!