Maija Stevenson

The Drifter and the Dreamer

The countertop is sticky again. Why is the countertop always sticky? She keeps her hand flat against the sponge so her home-manicured fingernails don’t chip on the laminated surface. Specks like confetti shine under the glossy bar from the pendant lights above; when the nights are slow and the highway just beyond the parking lot is quiet, she’ll connect the little flecks with a dainty finger, imagining constellations or bus routes-the big dipper or the 8:00am greyhound from Boise to LA. Though it doesn’t really matter what she draws, both are equally out of her reach.