I set out from home into a landscape that looked like an Irish ghost story. The slightly warmer air was melting the snow into a thick mist that covered the Flint Hills. The grass turned maize-y yellow against the grey, and windmills and barns appeared seemingly out of nowhere as they suddenly became visible along the roadside.
I pushed through without stopping to get my work done, but as I turned to head for home a little antique shop right on the highway called my name. I needed a win, so when I found a quilt I loved in good shape I bravely haggled for the first time in my life.
While I probably could've done better, I got it for the price I wanted, which was good enough. I felt more cheerful traveling after that, and I spread the new quilt out on the passenger seat to glance at as I sped along.
By that time, the sun had burned through the fog and the sky was gleaming blue. The day was, literally, brighter, and I was quickly becoming aware that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I remembered passing a sign for The Cozy Inn--a semi-famous, old-fashioned hamburger joint in Salina--and a milkshake and fries sounded really good.
My GPS got me there with no trouble, but, alas, it was a no-frills place--just sliders, chips, and pop. I was consoled by the good company though. As I enjoyed my stack of onion-y burgers, I talked with a couple on their way home from a burger tour of America. It's not everyday that you run into someone doing that, yes?
As I got back into my car, I realized that it had probably been a mistake to wear my suit inside the diner. The smell of onions may never come out. While I sniffed and played with the radio dial, the sky shifted again to a dark, storm-y blue and then to a grey and pink sunset. I was happy to be headed towards home.