Nineteen-

Twenty-three… thirty odd hours have passed since I’d met the girl who gave me the sandwich.

We had become quite close;

So close we shared a pair of seats.

(But only once the coach became too full.)

“I’m hungry.” She said abruptly with notes of anger.

‘We all are,’ I thought as I sat back and mulled over a more appropriate response to her apoplectic demeanor:

“We have just under 30miles ahead of us, wanna watch a movie with me?”

I asked with hope.

“No.” She dryly replied.

My attempted diversion failed. Try again… why not?

Tulsa(where the girl with the sandwiches was from. Or so I thought)… what’s there to do for kicks there.” I asked

“I’m not from Tulsa…” she said.

“Where are you from?” I asked, confused.

“Settle.” She replied.

I paused. Because at the inception of our acquaintanceship she told me this. But instead of arguing, I thought I’d say something charming, so she’ll forget how insensitive my forgetting was.

“Ah… Seattle: The Windy City.” I said.

Aha! A smile, small laugh.

Difficult to execute when thinking you might die of starvation.

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