12 June 2001 - glittering Wawa

Scarlet numerals slash like burning houses through the velvet face of the night: ten p.m. Soon, soon I would hold it in the hollow of my hand. Ahead, the road turns like a vernier on the control panel of fate—and there it is, the glittering Wawa, the glory, the fluorescent fount of bread and milk. A dozen eggs—and away! The vital task completed, I turned my tireless wheels to home.