Charlie's diner was a twenty-four hour pitstop outside of Tucson. It was out in the middle of the desert, a haven for drifters and insomniacs. The only evidence that the place even had a name was a pink neon sign which hung in the front window and flickered constantly. The interior hadn't been updated in twenty years. The tables were scared with a plethora of initials and obscenities. It reeked of grease, cigarettes and body odor. The waitresses were rude and the food was too expensive. It was a great late night hangout.

On that particular night a young woman sat alone in a window booth in the back. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, partially obscuring the reflection of her face in the plate glass. Her table was cleared except for a cup of coffee and an ashtray with a few scattered butts in it. She lit another cigarette, her cheeks sank as she took the first deep drag.

"Waiter!", she yelled across the room. "Yes", a scruffy boy arrived moments later, pot of coffee in hand. She gestured toward the pot with the cigarette between her fingers. "That's free of charge, right?", she asked, once he started pouring. "Free of charge", the boy replied, "Are you planning on ordering anything tonight?". She studied his face for a moment with still eyes, pondering the meaning of what the boy had said. "No", she responded, and returned to her coffee.

At that moment I fell in love with her. I had to talk to her. I had been watching her for nearly twenty minutes and she hadn't noticed once. She hadn't even looked up from her table. Once the waiter had left I made my move. I approached her table, casually brushing off my shirt and adjusting my jeans. "Excuse me", I asked in my most considerate tone, "Do you have a light?". She turned her head toward me. Her eyes probed my feet, up to my chest, and finally met my face with a curious stare. "Yes", she replied, as if it were a coincidence. She continued to examine me as she dug through her purse. I glanced away for a moment, anxiously. She seemed to enjoy that.

A devious grin curled across her lips. "Sit down", she said. I sat across from her. She leaned over the table, resting on her elbows, and lit the cigarette which was already in my mouth. I squinted as the hot smoke stung my eyes. "Thanks", I said. She put out her cigarette. She pointed at me, closing one eye as if to get a better view. "Name", she stated. "Excuse me?", I said, unsure of what she meant. "What is your name?", she repeated, being sure to enunciate every sylable. "David", I replied. "Anna...", she sipped from her coffee before she finished her sentence, "...is my name". She reflected momentarily, "Do you know why it's customary to begin a conversation with that question?". I shook my head, unsure of where she was going. "Because it's a very awkward post-coital question". She searched me for a response. The desperation in my laughter was poorly veiled, "Well I guess that's one way of seeing it". I hoped she was joking. "So why exactly did you ask me for a light?", she continued proding me. "Because I needed one?", I said, hoping to avoid the implications of the question. "You're a liar", she shot back, "You were trying to start a conversation with me". I smirked unconvincingly, attempting to deny guilt. She nodded slowly, and a grin spread across her face, "I saw you light a cigarette half an hour ago". Checkmate. My plan had been foiled, I was completely demoralized. I raced for an exit. "I should probably get back to my table", I said, trying to avoid any furthur embarassment. "Don't bother", she said. She gathered her things and stood up. She grabbed my hand, scrawled a number across the back of it. "I'll see you later David", she said, then turned around and walked away. "Don't forget about your bill", I yelled across the room. The door slammed behind her.

She had me and she knew it. It was too late. She was clever. If it had been on a piece of paper I would have have probably lost it. But there it was on the back of my hand. Taunting me like a scab that you just can't help but pick. Before I made it home, I had it memorized.

I lived alone in a run down third floor apartment. I had lived there for three years and hadn't even begun to decorate. At least I didn't have to worry about any pictures being knocked off the wall by the merciless beating it recieved from the headboard on my neighbor's bed each night. When I got home it was always the same; microwave dinners, cheap beer, and cable tv. I hated it, though I didn't realize it at the time. It had come to represent everything that was stagnant in my life. No hope. No escape. There was only the morbid illusion of contentment. I was imprisoned by my very existance. I paused momentarily before unlocking the front door to reflect on the evening. Fuck it. I walked in, went straight for the refridgerator and cracked a beer. The couch was still warm from the night before. I flipped through about a hundred channels before determining conclusively that, yet again, nothing was really worth watching. It usually went on like that for hours. Most nights I fell asleep on the couch watching 3 a.m. re-runs of sitcoms that went off air before I was born. I didn't even like television.

The next day at work was slow, I hadn't slept well the night before. I had tried to wash the number off my hand but failed horribly. I was an attendant at the Gas-and-Go on the other side of town. It was easy money, all I ever really did was run a cash register. I would have quit years ago, but I worked there with the only human being in the world that I really trusted. Ted and I had known each other since we were knee-high. He was an redneck asshole, but I loved him.

"And then she just walked out?", Ted asked. "Yeah, without even paying her bill", I said. He laughed. "Man, women are weird. I bet she screws like an animal.", Ted said, nudging my arm. "That's all it's ever about with you, isn't it?", I asked. "Oh quit lying to yourself. You know you wouldn't have walked up to her at all if you didn't want to bone her.", he shot back, "And if you don't want to, just send her over my way". "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Ring me up for a pack of smokes will you?", I gave him a five. "No problem. Get out of here, go call her and get laid. For me at least. How long has it been?", he asked. "Long enough. I don't even care anymore, I just want something else to do aside from come in here and go home.", I said. Ted nodded as he gave me back my fifty cents, "Yeah, a little change might do you some good."

The drive home was unbearable. The air conditioning was out in my car and it had almost reached a hundred that day. Cold beer was beconing me like a siren call. I pulled off at a liquor store a few miles from the house. A real rustic place, it had a wooden front porch full of spliters and snags. The screen door screeched like it was about to fall off it's hinges. It had been there for as long as anyone knew. If you didn't know any better you'd have probably thought it was abandoned. I ran in and grabbed a thirty pack, and on my way out I heard someone playing a guitar. I looked over to see an old black man sitting on a milk crate. He looked frail and broken from years of labor, but his hands were quick and he played well. I stopped to listen to him finish the old blues melody he was singing. When he was done he paused to smell the dry desert air.

"Boy just cause I'm blind don't mean I don't know you there.", he said, staring out at the horizon while he sat down his guitar. "I'm sorry, I was just admiring your song.", I said to him. He laughed jubilantly, holding out the straps of his overalls with his thumbs. "Well why don't you give an old man a beer", he barked at me. I wasn't in the mood to deal with a beggar, but I felt I owed it to him, so I handed him a can. He peeled it open and took a long slow sip and sighed with refreshment. There was a long, still silence. "Whats troublin you boy?", he asked me. "Oh I'm doing fine. Just trying to get home.", I said. He chuckled and turned his head toward me. "Everybody got troubles boy, sometimes you just don't know it yet." He didn't wait for a response before he picked his guitar back up and started his next song. I stepped off the porch, and as I got back into my truck I could hear him singing.

When I got back to the apartment complex I spent a few minutes looking for a place to park. The lot was full, so I had to pull over along side the road. I hurried inside and grabbed the phone, punching in the number I had rehearsed so many times. It rang twice. "The number you have dialed is not in service, please hang up and try again." Which I did several times before giving up. Finally, I accepted the truth. I had been blown off. I went for the refridgerator in defeat. I had been in such a hurry to get inside I had left the beer in the truck. I grabbed the keys off the table and stomped outside, slamming the door behind me.

I approached the road and saw a small congregation had gathered in the few minutes I was gone. I jogged toward the scene. Several of my neighbors were standing around chatting amongst themselves. "Is this your truck?", one man asked. I stared at him incredulously. "Actually, it is", I said. The son of a bitch had rear ended me. My truck had been thrown about ten feet down the shoulder, leaving skid marks streaking behind the twisted wreckage. An explosion of crumpled steel was all that was left of the front of his car, at least I had that satisfaction. "Aw hell man, I'm sorry. I don't know how it happened. I'm insured don't you worry about that. Let me copy down my information for you." He walked toward the remains of his car, continuing to ramble incessantly about how sorry he was. I examined the damage. "Well, it's just a vehicle", I said to myself. I tried desperately to retain my composure. I laughed, it couldn't have gotten any worse. He handed me a scrap of paper with some notes jotted on it. "What's your name pal?", he asked me. I read the insurance policy number. "Is this some kind of a joke?!", I exploded in anger. The crowd grew silent. "What do you mean?", he asked. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him against my truck. "Did she pay you to do this? What the hell is going on here?!", I shouted. "Relax man! I don't know what you're talking about!" He threw his hands up in the air. I read the insurance policy number again. I read the number on the back of my hand. They were the same.

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