Ideas pop up, then fizzle out. Should I visit Vegas again? No, I’d need a new set of IDs for that, since they’re onto me big-time in that town. Monte Carlo is still out of reach; my fake papers aren’t good enough for Europe.
As I get home and sneak into my room again, I realize that there is another place I could go. It’s closer, and there’s less heat for me there, even if it’s not that far distance-wise.
By the time I get into bed, I’m on board with my new plan. I’ll get a couple of nights of good sleep, get my stitches taken out, patch things up with Eugene, and then grab a bus to Atlantic City.
Has anyone been this excited about a trip to New Jersey before? I don’t know, and I don’t care. My world becomes all about the softness of my pillow as I fall into a blissful and much-deserved sleep.
The End