"One black backpack, one wallet, one leather jacket, one grey hoodie, two red sweatshirts, three pairs of black jeans," the woman behind the glass stares at me as she talks, "One pair of black lace up boots, one phone. Also provided are two plain black shirts, seven pairs of white socks, seven pairs of grey boxers, a pair of grey sweatpants, and what is left of your commissioner money which should come to $300."

She pushes all the items through the hole in the glass, "Thank you," I mutter as I take my stuff back. The guard with me directs me to a bathroom where I finally remove my prison uniform for good. It amazes me how those clothes from six years ago still fit, and so well. There's something comforting about having my hoodie back, the sleeves aren't as long as I remember them being, they don't reach my fingers anymore. My jeans feel soft after years of wearing rough prison uniforms, my jacket is stiff from years of basically being in storage. Wearing them reminds me how much has and hasn't changed. I remember the night I was arrested, how soaked my clothes were after running in the rain. Six years, these clothes are getting a second chance, just like I am. Stepping through the door, I feel stiff and awkward, I give the woman a gentle smile as I load up the clothes into my old backpack, being sure to put the envelope of money under everything in my wallet. She shoves a piece of paper at me to sign, I don't bother reading it, I know it's not about parole or a halfway house since I don't have either of those applied to me, it's probably just me signing out my stuff.

The guard with me gestures me in the direction of the door, which buzzes open when we reach it. After six more doors, and three gates I finally see the exit to the compound parking lot.

"No one picking you up kid?" The guard asks, not looking at me.

"Nope, just me, myself, and I."

"No cab?"

"Nope, where would I tell it to go?"

He shrugs his shoulder and groans, "There's a bus stop about a mile up the road, you can't just wander forever kid. Settle somewhere and stay out of trouble."

I nod as the final gate opens, I hesitate to take the step over the prison line. I'm finally free.

I walk onto the road in the direction of the supposed bus stop. I have no clue where I plan on going or if I'll be able to build any sort of life wherever I go. It's hard to move past all you've ever known, but I don't have much of a choice.

I don't think I want another choice.

The walk is warm. It's almost July, the weather is nice for summer outings. Is that what I'm calling this? A summer outing? I guess I could call it my first summer outing since being released. Oddly that makes me smile.

My feet ache as I walk, you'd think all these years having to stand in lines at meal times my feet would be immune to pain. I'm also regretting my jacket, I can feel the sweat gathering on my back and forehead. Seeing the bus terminal ahead is a saving grace, I'm quick to drop my scrawny ass on the bench for a few minutes before going up to the ticket booth.

"Hello," An elderly man smiles wide, squinting at me until he lifts his glasses back to his face with shaking hands, "Where too?"

"Hey there," I dig in my bag for the money, "Whatever ticket is cheapest I'll take, as long as it's away from here."

"Running from something?" He taps his keyboard as he reads the screen.

"Just starting over," I grumble as I hold the cash in my hand.

"Well we have a bus leaving for small town of Marsha in half an hour. It's the cheapest trip that actually has some distance, three hour trip and is $40, how does that sound kid?"

I nod, handing him the money for my ticket. I've heard of Marsha, but I'd never been. It's a tourist town mostly, it'll probably be busy with us being in the middle of summer. I don't mind busy. I grew up in the back streets of Portland, about an hour from here, where there were so many passing faces it was a miracle you ever saw the same one twice. Granted, hiding in the mass crowds was how I survived, so I probably shouldn't knock it.

Looking around I see a young, pale girl, a teenager, with teal hair and black everything else. Her cheeks are red, probably from the heat. The sun is beating down and while it felt nice earlier, I think I've had enough. The girl looks pissed to high hell, her pierced lips pursed and eyes narrow as she kicks at the gravel at the edge of the road.

Six years ago I would have said hi. Six years ago I would have pushed to know what's upsetting her, even if I didn't really care. Six years ago in Portland I would have tried to charm her back to whatever hole in the wall I was staying at. I was a jackass and a mess.

I don't realize I'm staring until she's flipping me off. I'm a special kind of stupid, I know that. Desperately I search for something else to look at. Trees. Dirt. Empty road. I see the guy at the ticket booth is all but falling asleep. Fuck this is going to be a long, awkward half hour. I need to get a hobby, like reading or something. Pulling out my phone I realize it was mostly for my... Work. The plan probably expired after I didn't pay all these years, no internet, no data. I see the contacts list, no one important, at least not now. People like us disappear a lot, like I did or like those who made mistakes... No one blinks an eye. One by one I delete the numbers, taking only a moment for each one to wonder what happened to them these past six years. The more I think about what's happened to them, the more I start thinking about what's happened to me, and how much has changed. Do I even know how to function in society? Real normal society?

My thoughts turn to the teenage girl a few feet away, she's maybe seventeen if I had to guess, she looks absolutely pissed and like being here is a chore. Maybe it is, I don't really know. She has no idea how much her life could change in the next six years of her life. She could get pregnant. She could get in a car wreck. She could have some life altering event happen and decide it's her calling to be a doctor or lawyer. She could say "fuck it" and become an alcoholic. There's so much in our futures we don't see coming. I never thought I would go to prison, as a kid I wanted to be an astronaut for fucks sake.

Time passes quickly as I contemplate my future and existence. I look up to a bus sitting, idling in front of me. I can feel the heat radiating against the humming, dark blue metal. Tanking off my jacket in a desperate attempt to not melt, I hurry to the door.

"Which bus is this?" I ask the middle aged woman in the drivers seat.

"Marsha, Maine."

I nod and quickly grab my stuff. I hand her my ticket as I climb up onto the bus. She offers nothing but a small smile before closing the door behind me.

The bus is fairly crowded. I hear aimless conversations between spouses, elderly travelers, and parents to their children. I can't help feel like some of them are staring at me. I hope it's just me being paranoid, or if they are it's just because I'm a mess.

The smell of plastic and shoes fill the cool air as I walk to the back of the bus, hoping I can find an isolated seat. I end up by the bathroom, which surprisingly doesn't smell, and lay across the seats. I feel the bus start to move as I watch the ceiling, occasionally adjusting the air conditioning vent. Sun shines through the window, blinding me from time to time. It's nothing my jacket over my face can't solve. I quietly listen to people talk to pass my time. People talk about the friends and family they're visiting, the jobs waiting for them, the places they're going to see. Everyone around me sounds so happy, like they've got it figured out. I contemplate asking someone for an instruction manual for life, god knows I need it.

A kid a few seats in front of me is staring up the aisle at me, his mom is oblivious to his newfound curiosity in me.

"Why do you have drawings on your hands?" He asks quietly. His eyes leave mine just long enough to glance at the hand resting on my stomach.

The red heart is noticeable, and to most it just looks like a cliché prison tat. I stare at it, for a moment forgetting the kid and his question.

"I have lots of drawings on me, I got them all for different reasons."

"Why'd you get that one?" His eyes stay on my hand.

"To remember someone."

I close my eyes again in hopes of getting the kid to drop it. I don't want to think about the past anymore today. He seems to get the hint as he turns back to his mom and starts pulling on her shirt.

My stomach starts growling. I didn't eat at breakfast this morning. I was too nervous, and now I feel like I'm dying. This is going to be a long bus ride, a very long, miserable bus ride.

Note to self, find a place to eat when I get to Marsha. And a place to stay. Fuck, I don't have a lot of money, looks like finding a job won't be able to wait for more than a day. My stomach growls again. I let out a frustrated groan.

I glance over and see the kid staring at me again, "Do you know what time we'll get to Marsha, kid?" He shakes his head, "Does your mom?"

He looks at her and pokes her arm, directing her attention to me, I ask her the same question.

"We should arrive at approximately one o'clock, two at the latest."

"Thank you," I feel my frustration grow. Lunch hour is at two, I don't want to miss it and have to wait until dinner.

Note to self: Find food, find a place to stay, find a job. Find food, find a place to stay, find a job. How do people even look for a job? Do they go place to place? Online? Will anyone even hire me?

Questions plague my mind the entire trip. I feel like I've been on this bus an eternity when it finally stops and people start loudly flooding out. I wait until they're all gone before making my way to the door.

"Anywhere good to eat around here?" I ask the driver as I glance down at the time on my phone. 1:46.

She points down the road to a small store, looks like a café, "Family owned and operated for more than 30 years, excellent food, good prices, nice people. I go every time I stop here."

I watch her get up and step off the bus. I follow behind her, trying not to seem like a creep. The streets are somewhat crowded, I can feel myself getting anxious. It's like being back in the yard.

The bus driver is walking in the door of the little café, I duck inside quickly to get away from the crowds. I don't even see the name as I hurry into the calm room. I hear women laughing, it pulls me from my thoughts.

With a glance over, I see the bus driver at the counter, probably making jokes when the cashier since she says she's a regular. Her laugh is loud, crazy, like she might never stop. It overpowers the other laughter, light, whimsical, it sounds like an angel.

My eyes lift up to see her. I feel my heart stop. Her hair is like a fire, all red and full of life, the waves perfectly frame her round face. She turns to face me, her mouth moving but I hear nothing. I'm captivated by her piercing blue eyes, her almost perfect smile, and straight, thin nose that almost looks like it has a natural up-turn. Everything about her is small and thin. She looks like she can fit in my pocket. I can't stop staring. Her melodic voice finally pulls me from fantasy as she stares at me wide eyed.

"Can I help you sir?"