Where are we at?

Highway 20. Indiana.

They all kind of run together after a while. Don’t they? In the dark, you can’t tell the difference in states or regions. Just one big dark blob that we’re driving into, he watched as headlights flew past them. Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, Iowa, it’s all the same.

Midwest.

Right. In the dark, I mean. There’s no difference between any of them.

I guess, he continued driving. Lit up a cigarette.

Now, you get out East or West, and there’s a difference. It feels different. A different kind of energy.

It’s just another highway to me. Dark or light, it’s all the same. Food changes at the diners. That’s all.

Oh yeah?

You can’t get scrapple in Indiana. It’s a Pennsylvania dish.

Made out of what?

You don’t want to know. Like head cheese. You dont want to know.

Then I’m better off without it.

I suppose.

I suppose, he rested his head on the cold window. Goodnight.

Goodnight.