Chapter 12 – Guide My Feet

 Chp 12 - Southern ChurchHighway 98 kept me on the Gulf coast and I’d spent Wednesday night sleeping in a beach house still under construction, where I was lulled by the gentle rhythms of a sleeping sea.

In the early morning I found myself on the western outskirts of Panama City, Florida, and I wasn’t having any luck landing a ride, so I started walking east, holding out my thumb. The air carried a warm hint of flowers. After several miles I reached the thick of town, and figured getting a ride would be easy.

As the afternoon heat swarmed in, hundreds of people looked at me as they drove by, most neutral, others with curiosity, some with disdain; I’d now become accustomed to people staring at me. Another hour passed. So I started walking. The light perfume of flowers that had filled the morning air segued into kitchen exhaust from hamburger stands and the oily scent of baking blacktop.

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