Charlie pulled the car over to the side of the road and took one long last look in the rearview, shut it off and lit his last cigarette.
It had been a long night, after a long couple of days, and he was spent, broke and out of gas. Things had not worked out as he planned.
Right now what he wanted a chicken salad sandwich, a cold beer, nine hours of sleep on a king size water bed and a 400 dollar hooker who could suck the chrome of a trailer hitch while humming dixie.
Somehow he didn't think much of that would happen anytime soon.
He did get the chicken salad sandwich a year later.
It was his last meal before the lethal injection.
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