Levi

I stared down at the cigarette in my hands, nonplussed. Levi’s question hung in the air between us.

In a motion as natural as breathing, I handed him the cigarette and he took a long drag before handing it back. “There’s nothing here for you, Wynn.”

“Who says there’s anything out there for me?” I jerked my chin towards the open road and flicked the ash off the cigarette.

He drew in a deep breath and sighed. “I never said there was.”

I forced out a thin chuckle. “Convincing.”

“I’m not saying the big, wide world is out there ready to make all our dreams come true – that’s bullshit sentiment (schwarmerei).” He pushed off the guardrail and stood in front of me. “I’m saying we go out there, give into our fatal defects (hamartia), and go out in a disaster of our own invention.” He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “So, are you coming with me?”

Shaking my head, I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze. “Levi,” I began, but the words disintegrated on my tongue. Everything I’d felt for him over the years fused (amalgamated) into an unidentifiable wad in my chest. This was Levi, my lifelong friend and occasional (quondam) lover. He comprehended me. He knew my dissatisfaction and my longings. I could never deny him.

Levi scuffed his toe in the gravel at the side of the road. “Wynn?”

I dropped my head and nodded. “Of course I’m coming with you, Levi. What choice do I have?”

A grin tugged at his lips and he snatched the stub of the cigarette out of my hand. “Then you better go home and pack because we’re not spending another day in this worthless, humdrum town.”