Clovertown was the next place I went. Mama would've wanted me to be prepared, but that's one piece of advice that I don't take. I'll play life by the ear for as long as I live. Not a lot really happened in the morning. I drove, stopped by a gas station, had some gas station jerky, normal stuff.

I had actual coffee—gas station coffee tastes a lot worse than diner coffee—at Clovertown alongside some waffles. One time, I read a story of a woman witnessing a murder while eating a waffle at a diner. It didn't happen, of course not, but it's all I could think about while eating.

Speaking of reading, the arson book features testimonies from the residents in the apartments. Each one is just as heartbreaking as the other. The people who lived in those messed-up apartments had messed-up lives too. Down on their luck people who were trying to find a cheap residency. Other people might say that it should be expected, the low price and all, but not one of them deserves it. The book mentions that most of them are doing well now but a lot is lamenting over what was lost. It's always the small things that people don't expect. One of the testimonies spoke of a doll that they had all their lives. Another talks about an embroidery piece a friend had given them. A lot of these were at the museum and the book had the pictures coinciding.

I found another motel. I didn't bother putting all my stuff down. A good chunk of the day was spent resting from the previous. My legs hurt. There's a track somewhat near my apartment and my fatigue was a good enough wake-up call.

I did hear from the desk clerk that there's a concert in the local park. They had about nine or ten more rooms checked in for that very reason. Later, I think 5 PM, I got out of my room and checked out the park.

It's no hardcore metal concert, of course not, but something I can only describe as Southern rock? Goth but with a Southern twinge? It was a different sort of music than what I expected from Clovertown. The band, Keep the Beat, was going around a bunch of music festivals.

It's good music. I used to be afraid of the drums when I was a kid. My heart felt as if it were beating to the same rhythm as the drums and I thought that my heart might stop if I listened to the drums for too long and it stopped. It was a weird childhood fear but I don't fear that anymore and I, quite happily, swayed to the music along with everyone else.

There were a few small shops to the side too, some Etsy-looking businesses and band merch. I didn't really feel like getting merch but I did get a paint palette from one of the other stalls. It's this glass, bubble design with grooves where I should put the paint. I know I haven't painted in years and I shouldn't spend money on something that I might not use but, hey, maybe I will. If not, then it'd make a very cute decorative tray.

Not a lot else happened. I talked to a few people but nothing more than small talk. Maybe I'm downplaying it, I don't know. It's a good day over all.