The Referee has called a stoppage and scored this fight No Contest.
That's right, I'm done. It's not a win, it's not a loss, it's certainly not a TKO.
Things are just hectic right now and I'm not going to maintain my current rate. Don't worry, expect a rematch next November!
The plot is frustratingly midstream, so I won't bother boring you with the story, I will; however, tell you the title and synoposis I posted at the start of November:
Frank took another long drag from his cigarette and glanced down at the train console for the 4th time in the last hour. This isn’t how he’d thought it would be. The empty landscape roared by, as it had continuously since he’d left the metropolis of Southern California, interrupted only briefly by an aged Joshua tree or lone crossing. He glanced at the picture of the beautiful young woman pasted on his board and then at the barely healing slash on his left forearm. “No”, Frank thought, “This isn’t how I thought it’d be at all”. With less than 300 of 3200 miles completed, he wondered, what the hell had he gotten himself into.
I have a photo as well, maybe I'll post that someday soon.