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BEN walks into a convenience store in the middle of nowhere and cashes a $7 check dated three months prior. The camera follows him inside and pans beside him while he's waiting in line behind an old farmer wearing overalls, who is in the process of purchasing a pack of Marlboro Reds from the counter clerk. BEN taps his foot impatiently as the two locals carry on a dreadfully slow conversation about the weather and the Walgreens pharmacy that is being built on the grounds of an antebellum plantation house, which was recently demolished downtown. Finally, he makes it to the front of the line.

CASHIER

Hey sugar, where've you been off to?

BEN

California. I just got back.

CASHIER

Nice to be home, huh? I bet ya mama and daddy are glad to have ya. You just missed your uncle.

BEN

Oh really? Could I get a pack of....Marlboro Milds? I figured I'd cash this check here since it would cost more in gas to drive to the bank.

The cashier cashes the check and hands him his cigarettes and three dollars and some change. BEN places the change in his pocket and smiles a half-smile.

BEN

Well, good to see you.

CASHIER

You too, baby. Come back to see us.

BEN walks out the door into the setting sun. He hurriedly opens his pack of cigarettes, discards the cellophane onto the ground and lights up. After the first drag, an observable amount of tension sheds from his face as his closes his eyes and leans against the hood of his parents' 1994 Champagne colored Buick LeSabre. After a few brief moments, he opens his eyes and watches as an obviously underage high school student comes out of the store backwards while yelling obscenities at the clerk.

BOY

Hey cuz, can I have a cigarette?

BEN

How old are you?

BOY

Eighteen.

BEN

Right.

BEN fishes a cigarette out of his pack and hands it to the boy with a smirk. The boy runs off and jumps in a car with his buddies. BEN, high on nicotine and smiling gently, watches as the car drives away. He then sighs, extinguishes his cigarette onto the pavement with his flip-flop and hops back into the car. He pulls out and drives down the road while scanning through never-ending country and gospel stations on the radio. He finally, annoyed, stops the radio on 92.7 and sings the last few verses of the Rolling Stones' “Sympathy for the Devil” as he pulls into the Huddle House parking lot. He enters the diner and glances at the two people standing behind the counter, looking incredibly bored. A woman with short curly bleached blond hair in her 70s cleans off the table next to the entrance with a filthy torn rag. Without looking in his direction, she greets him.

WAITRESS

How are you doin? You want a water?

BEN

A water and a coffee, please ma'am.

WAITRESS

Coffee too? (She seems oddly excited about this. BEN nods and smiles.)

BEN walks to the back of the restaurant and sits in a booth in front of a two-way mirror. It was his spot in high school. He glances at the Grab-a-Toy machine that replaced the jukebox that he had remembered so fondly. Number 127 was what he always played—Alison Krauss's “When You Say Nothing at All”.

The WAITRESS brings three napkins, a spoon, a bowl of non-dairy creamers, a cup of semi-warm coffee, and a tall glass of ice water. She places the items in front of him.

BEN

I think I'll just have coffee, if that's okay.

WAITRESS

Sure, honey. (She walks off.)

BEN watches as three elderly women stare at him out of the corner of their eyes. Being in a small town, he assumed that they knew his parents. The conversation was inaudible, although he strained to hear it. He opens his laptop and begins to type. Obviously having writer's block, he looks up a phone number in one phone as he dials it on another. Someone answers.

BEN

Hey sugar! Guess where I am? ..... No, I'm in Georgia..... Cochran....It's a long story. Hold on, let me go outside so I can talk.

BEN takes a sip of his water and rushes outside, lights up a cigarette, and begins pacing up and down the sidewalk.

BEN

Hey, I found this check you gave me when I was cleaning out my car. Is it okay that I cashed it? .... Ok, good. I just really needed cigarettes and I didn't have any money.....No, it's ok, you can just buy me coffee or something. I should get a little money in the next couple days from the deposit on my place in LA. I'll come to Warner Robins.....What?! You're still with him? What the fuck? No, you don't have to FedEx me money. I'll call you Friday and we can meet up at Starbucks or something..... Ok, take care babe...Love you too.

BEN grins as he puts the phone back in his pocket. He watches as an old man slowly peddles a bicycle down the street, followed by a young leather-clad boy on a motorcycle. He continues smiling, although not as wide, as he walks back inside and sits down at his table, resuming his writing with a little less difficulty.