Fiction | September 01, 1995
Downhillers
Scott Lasser
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We arrived in Durango a day late, our bodies creaky after fourteen hours on a bus.
I slept most of the trip, but Kansas was antsy. He tapped his feet, played drums on his knees, went to the bathroom twice an hour, chatted up the bus driver so much that the guy told him to go back to his seat.
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