Nine o’clock on a warm Sunday morning attempting to regroup from a sixteen hour Saturday shift while coming to grips with a twelve hour shift tonight. Exhausted but too wired on caffeine to consider sleep for at least a couple hours. I call these the unoccupied hours the in-between time.

With a few bottles bottle of beer in hand, a familiar playlist on Spotify, and a cigar in my shirt pocket I take a seat at my little too rusted patio table. I pop a beer, turn up the volume, and light the cigar. This is the usual routine for the in-between time. Trying to get away from the thought of work while knowing work is less than ten hours away. The first beer empties a little too quickly as the cigar marks the time.

I look across the yard and notice the cars and trucks traveling down the road. Families wearing their pressed Sunday best on their way to one church or another. I pop another beer, return the waves of children riding in backseats, and I wonder what it would be like to have somwhere to go or something to think about on a Sunday that didn’t involve work?