He came to a rest under an enormous California oak. The arms of the tree disappearing above him into the last hints of daylight. The pack peeled off his back with a thud. The weight coming off allowed the deepest emotional sigh escape with his breath.
He drank deeply from his thermos, water sloshing off his chin. Wiping his chin with his arm and shirt sleeve, he let out a mischevious, misplaced giggle. He pulled out the package wrapped in foil. the only correct way to eat corn on the cob was like a typewriter – left to right, then rotate and left to right. Dinner roll. Mushy squash. Can’t be a chooser.
Gently rummaging into his burden, he pulled out a single small packet from the overstuffed pocket. ‘Fragrance-free’ said the label proudly. He carefully unfolded it, a reverent origami in reverse. Humming an unimportant melody, he smiled, holding the rectangle up into the light of the streetlamp.