Ghosts in Baltimore

Baltimore, Maryland. I’m sitting at a shipper, waiting to get into a dock. Tiny place. Pretty much in downtown Baltimore. Well, not right downtown, but close enough to give me the willies. I’m close enough that when I called the customer for clarification on my directions (because I was lost), we used the stadium parking signs as reference.
In a sick way, it’s cool to be in places like this. It’s a part of Baltimore I’ve never been to before. The streets are lined with apartment buildings. Cars are parked up and down both sides of the street.
Being in an area like this makes me feel the ghost of my father. I don’t know where in Baltimore the hotel is/was where was living and working when he died. So in the absence of specifics, I feel him on every corner.
That said, I can’t wait to get out of here. This is not a place I’m comfortable with in a big truck. I still have another pick-up south of here (still in Baltimore), and this is my weekend home load. I just want to get on down the road. However wistful I might get on the streets of Baltimore, I don’t want to linger here.

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