Andrew Schmidt

commutes.

Last Day (L.A. → Corona, CA)

Driving into work Tuesday morning you never thought it might be the last time. Creeping along the 101, with the LA skyline rotating to your right, you never considered it. When traffic on the 60 slowed to a stop, as it had been doing lately – when did that start, anyway? – you never wondered will I miss these lonely treks into the desert? You never wondered because it never crossed your mind that the year-long gig might end.

A year ago you still called yourself freelance. It’s what you were on March 19th, when you showed up for a two-week TV shoot. The show had no buyer and no budget and at the time you were thankful for ten days’ work. When the crew was called back for a third week everyone knew it was just for pick-ups, just tying up loose ends.

Two months later you joked it’d become the “shoot that’ll outlive us.” Six months later it wasn’t a joke. A year after that you didn’t call

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