The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Coming hot off the long, winding road, Jeremiah pulled his Camaro into the Sohio filling station and parked in front of one of the pumps. He sat for a spell and studied all around the small station until he spotted a payphone located at the very edge of the property.

"What can I get for you, sir?" An older white man clothed in a pair of greasy jeans and an equally grease-stained jacket came up beside the window.

Unfazed by the man's abrupt appearance, Jeremiah got out of the car, and without even looking at him said, "You can fill it up."

Jeremiah dug deep into his pockets while walking slowly towards the phone booth. Once inside he shut the folding door and inserted his quarter into the phone's slot. He hesitated ever so long before finding the bravery to dial the number he never wanted to in the first place.

Coughing up any useless phlegm, Jeremiah uttered, "Uh, mom, dad. I know you guys are on vacation, and to be honest, I'm kinda glad I got the machine instead."

Jeremiah watched as a semi-truck roared by him down the highway, sounding like an almighty war machine.

I haven't been one hundred percent honest with you guys lately. You see...you know all about Julie and I, but...I'm no longer a psychiatrist. To be truthful,

lot has happened to me this year, and I don't know how to deal with any of it. It's hard for me to explain it all over the phone. Hell, it would be hard to

few months. I can't go back to work; I can't even go back to my own apartment. All I can do is go forward. I know that I'm rambling, but I can't help myself. Please, mom, don't worry about me. Dad, please don't try and figure me out. I'm leaving Ohio. I

streaming down his face, Jeremiah hung up the phone. He then opened the booth's door and made his way back to his car, wiping his face dry along the way and

you have here!" The station attendant

Jeremiah responded, "Yeah, it gets me to where I need to be.

"Ten dollars

and handed the man two

man wiped his hands on a dirty rag.