The Barn

Portland has never been my scene, yet, here I am. On my ever-present quest, searching for God only knows. The train station is always busy here. I must be running around in circles. Everything is too familiar. Frank's at my side, spouting about how interested he was about my interactions with the woman on the train. "I don't know," I tell him, "I just felt compelled." There was something strangely familiar about her. She tried to get too personal though. How could I remind her of her past? We've never seen each other before. I'm glad that train ride is over, though. It's time to get away from all these people. I can't take another train. Too many people, too crowded. I've stayed outside Portland many times. I know the perfect place.

"Where to?" Frank asked. I keep him out of most of my thoughts, I suppose that gets boring for him.

"I know a place," he need some information, "maybe ten miles out of the city. There's a barn I know is safe. I've stayed there before."

Frank just shrugs and follows along, like he always does. He's like a lost puppy, just waiting to be acknowledged or pet or something. I'm beginning to build a certain distain for his presence. Some days I'm glad he's here I guess, but his questions always seem irrelevant. As we walk out of the train station, Frank and I stop by the lockers and try 271. Of course, the key didn't fit. I think I'll just hold on to this key and try all over. Frank thinks it's odd I would do this dying woman any favors, but no one else was going to do it, and she didn't have any times left. I'm going all over the country, I was her best option.

The walk to the barn was Frank throwing a myraid of questions at me. I can't think hardly. Usually, I spend all this travel time in my own thoughts. Frank just felt talkative today. It was driving me crazy. I also know the more time I spend in my own thoughts, I would go even crazier. Having someone to talk to is a blessing, but it's in a hell of a disguise. Today isn't about finding anything, I just need a familiar place I can go and think at. It's nearing nighttime, and we're nearly there. For some reason, I can't stop thinking we're being followed. I know it's a little paranoid, I mean, who cares about a couple of drifting nomads? We're not hurting anybody. Still, my eyes are sharp tonight. I keep thinking I'm seeing an animal's eyes in the distance, almost like something is hunting us; stalking it's prey.

We approach the barn in the dark. Frank complains on how run down it is. I don't mind. It's a roof over my head in a rainy part of the world. I'll take shelter in a run down barn anyday over sleeping out in the bugs and the rain. My shoulder hurts more in the rain. I feel it in my bones. I feel a little more secure anyways with those stalking eyes in the night. I try to tell Frank; he keeps saying it's all in my head. Morning will come soon, anyways. I've got to sleep on what to do next. Tonight, I'll stare in the distance. I'll stay awake and make sure we're safe. We've come too far to get eaten by some rabid beast.