Purgatory is not what I thought it would be, although not being Catholic I didn’t know much about it anyway. It’s a truck stop, standing all alone in the middle of a scrubby, endless desert. The basically timeless short-order restaurant is filled with customers, all types, young and old, each looking just as lost as I am. The waitress has seen better days but is nice, and keeps delivering food orders to everyone. I wonder how long I will be here. At least the french fries are crisp, greasy and delicious. I guess it could be worse.