Looks Like Freedom, but it Feels Like Death

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

I was going back to Kansas. I emailed Janis and told her that I was newly single and if she was too then meet me at the Wichita Airport at 11:15 that night to pick me up, and then I got on the plane. I arrived drunk and agitated. When I looked out the window all I saw were the same Goddamn grids below,  a spark of light here and there, but it was mostly black. I immediately regretted jumping so hastily, but I needed something familiar to see, and Janis was about as familiar as it got. God I hope she’s there.

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Meet Me Tonight in Atlantic City

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

Outside the hotel I stood, staring up at the seemingly endless occupied floors. After a few minutes I turned to walk to the nearest bar Barbara’s team had migrated. Atlantic City itself was very small, but they managed to cram in a lot of hotels, bars, and casinos, although I wasn’t surprised.

Luckily everyone I passed was too polite to come out and ask what was wrong with my face. The healing process was slower than my younger years. I sat at the bar, positioned myself center stage, and ordered a Seven and Seven, gulping it down while eyes stabbed my back. Charlie joined me soon enough.

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It’s Not Dark Yet

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

I awoke on the sidewalk to a splash of fresh New York mud-water in tremendous pain. The hangover wasn’t even factoring in with what seemed like at least two bruised ribs, welts on my face, and some deep cuts on my arm that may have been caused by broken glass. I tried to stand up but the back of both my legs felt like they’d been kicked in.

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