Circle Inn, circa 2022

Run-down dive bar bathroom, I've been awake 15 hours and aim to add 9 more. 
It's July, the sun is blistering, and my world has fallen splendidly apart. 
One bit after the next, the month of June is white noise static in my mind. Too many drinks later and I'm on my knees in front of Circle Inn, praying for reprieve.

A little too close to the end, I was there 3 months before - a rare night when I'd had enough. Americans were stuck to their TV sets, eager to see if a man whose actions set the country on fire would be sent to prison; the bar and I were vacant. Dodging questions about him, chain-smoking Marlboro menthols; I gave my number to a junkie with an attentive smile and didn't feel so bad about it. He’d been sleeping with Vanessa on his mind the whole time and I knew it, 
but I was tired of her taking my spot in our bed.