River Jumper.

It was a fitful sleep. Birds chirped outside my window as dawn cracked over the horizon. The wind blew intermittently, and I faintly heard sirens in my drowsy haze. Neighbors chattered about nothing in particular, buses picked up disabled passengers, garbage trucks constantly backed up through their morning routes, and strangers in the parking lot blared their car stereos as they shined up their rides, rocking the same R&B tune over and over again, all summer long.

It’s a wonder I got anything done at all, and now I live in St. Paul.