110 miles to empty Chapter 1

This is my first novel. I wrote this years ago. It’s time it saw daylight.

Foreword:
To all those in the breakdown lane trying to figure out how to get their lives started again.

Thank you Adam for all our adventures

To her

Borderline Personality Disorder is no joking matter. Many have destroyed their lives having run into a Borderline. This is a story of  lost love.

Prologue:
I don’t know if she will ever realize how much I love and miss her. He thought to himself that it was loving with his heart and soul everyday. He wakes up each morning aching for something he had never known and goes to bed feeling the same way. Some things in life are not fair they just are. He never came for her, he feels he should have.

Chapter 1
Talking along the streets, bustling to and from coffees in hand. Everyone always looks so busy and determined in this city. Always a brisk morning breeze coming off the Atlantic and this morning is no exception. Autumn always starts out so beautiful in this harried town of burgeoning politicians and anxiety riddled baseball fans. You have to love the fans in this town as every season they show up and follow the eternal ups and downs that come with being a Sox fan. You can walk into any bar in Boston and see folks gulping down beers, munching on pretzels and talking about Nomah, Pedro or Manny. This cool August morning promised a night no different as our team is chasing the division lead. After 9 hours of paperwork and brain drain I walked into Sazeracs, saying hi to a couple of friends and nodding to Jim (the bartender) looking for his favorite 2 shots of Kailua, 1 of Baileys on the rocks. The baseball talk was a little different today as the discussions focused on the firing of Jimmy Williams. His replacement Joe Kerrigan started a lackluster 3 wins and 2 losses. Having moved around so much, it’s always amazing how loyal these fans are. With the exception of NYC there isn’t a baseball town anywhere like Boston. I remember hearing a fan yelling at Nomah in the on deck circle “.398 buddy, come on you can do better than that”. Anyone (including Nomar) knows this fan was dead serious. I think this intensity is what keeps me coming back to this town. No matter how many places I go, I always feel drawn back to Boston. On any given day the intensity here is palpable. I nod to Jim for another while staring intently at the screen cheering or awwing at every pitch with the rest of the patrons. I had almost tuned out the karaoke machine until a particularly tone deaf blonde was killing a Gloria Estefan song. I turned back to the game, and thought to myself why am I here? I gaze at the pictures, signs and neon all the same even when it was Sydeny’s. I slide my wallet out and pull a 20 and throw it on the bar, down the rest of my drink. As I walk out of the bar, I wonder to myself, why in a city full of so much do I do so little.