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Out of service

In by Wyatt on October 4, 2010 at 12:22 am

Those words mean:

You’re thirsty as a hound after hunt and your drink is a tantalizing glass pane away, your currency won’t buy anything now, and the big boxy machine stares mockingly.

Those words mean:

At last night’s motel the air con gently spat air warmer than the desert outside so you hydrated ruthlessly from the grimy faucet and today after a dawn till noon leg your bladder is the size of Jupiter but you may not relieve. You must hold.

Those words mean:
No one can call. Text. Email. Update. You’re blissfully isolated. Finally, finally, finally… you can breathe.

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