She waited by the gas station bathroom, took a deep inhale of her unfiltered camel and started throwing smoke rings with each breath. She watched the rings dissipate in the 4 a.m. air. It was cold and she could feel her nipples harden against the scratchy wool sweater her mother gave her that last time she was in Missouri. As she dropped her cigarette butt into a diet whatever soda can she did a handstand in the middle of the parking lot thinking things might shift in her gut. A car drove by blasting rap, she stood up and could feel the beat of the loud music in her body and it made her feel silly. She wanted to be silly. She banged on the bathroom door again and this time it slammed open. She was surprised and a little pissed that she’d waited all this time it was empty. She locked the door, pulled her pants down, sat on the toilet, dug around in her purse, thought about those tall stands of pines they’d passed on the road and looked for an outlet for her vibrator.