ohio 2:3

Jack was smearing yellow filling into a smiley face on the black formica. Jill watched him, unsmiling, head on her fist, eyes drooping. Get these kids to bed. I tried to look out the window but saw our reflection, the reflection of the Bear-O: counter, drive-thru, napkin island, plastic seating, white light, green glass. We could be anywhere in America, almost anywhere in the world. All Bear-O shops are the same, and for that matter, all Bear-O's are like all Chimpy's, which are like all burger-taco-chicken joints. We walked into a Bear-O in Ohio, walked out the same door half an hour later in Arizona, a little nauseous. These were not my kids. French fries, it was the foreign drive-thru voice again, back from Chimpy's, french fry potatoes, okay? No french fries, said the headset, doughnuts, we have, coffee, what the hell's the difference.

move on...