Moe Bean stepped outside the honky-tonk and into the cool night air of the parking lot. Being two in the morning, it was quiet and still. The noise of the band inside now only a memory, he crossed the empty street — red lights flashing — and squeezed his way through a neatly kept privet hedge toward a Denny’s restaurant. A shortcut he surmised, to the pancakes and pork sausage that lie within.
- North Cascades, July 2013