“What’s your name?” asked the girl behind the diner counter.
“mcpelandio,” he said, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. mcpelandio
The Ballad of mcpelandio
“My parents started it,” he said, sliding onto a vinyl stool. “I finished it. Added the ‘mc’ for luck and the ‘io’ for music.” “What’s your name
On the diner’s napkin, he’d written: “The world doesn’t need more sense. It needs more curious noise. Keep humming.” And under that, his name again, just because it felt good to say out loud. “I finished it
mcpelandio didn’t believe in borders. Not the ones on maps, anyway. The ones in people’s minds? He tried to redraw those daily with a crooked smile and a cup of coffee that was never quite warm enough.