In The Rich Man's World

The Way Old Friends Do

''Oh, I'm so sorry, (Y/N).'' You heard Louise say, completely embarrassed, as she dried your lemonade-covered chest with a towel she found in the back seat of the car.

''It's okay.'' You said reassuringly, although you held back from slitting her throat as the drink spilled. ''There are some clothes in the trunk, can you get them for me?''

''Of course.''

Before leaving for a not-very-wise trip to New Jersey, you rushed through only what you could remember: gasoline, water, coffee, snacks, and vodka. Yes, early morning trips on deserted highways should not be watered down with vodka, but you were already stoned, so what's the worst that could happen?

Luckily, you were still prudent enough to decide to drink later. Every half hour of the trip you stopped at a gas station to go to the bathroom or to talk to an attendant at the convenience store, asking for information or recommendations for shortcuts. Without many resources, other than a map and a few coordinates, all that was left was to rely on the experience and knowledge of other people - and also on their kindness.

When you finished drying off, you took off your lime-scented, sugar-smelling clothes and waited for Louise to get new ones. Looking around, you chilled and felt a shiver run up the back of your neck. It was the perfect time and place for a horror movie chain of events to take place. The first movie that came to your mind was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and you felt a chill in your stomach.

Two stoned women - one of them half-naked - alone on a highway at night, surrounded by hissing eucalyptus trees. You were amazed that your car had survived eighty miles without shutting down or skidding at any time; incredibly, your steering wheel was no longer locking up either.

The forest around the highway was silent. It was hours before dawn, and the air was as still as inside a church, with an incense-like mist rising slowly from the ground. The car was making a low, steady rumble. You were just waiting for the silhouette of Leatherface to emerge from the shadows and switch on his chainsaw to dismember your body.

You suddenly saw Louise's head above the trunk and she threw some clothes at you, taking the opportunity to borrow a leather jacket.

"Really?'' You asked, looking at the satin dress you had worn to the last party you went to; it still smelled of cigarettes and booze. ''Didn't you have anything more comfortable?''

''I chose the prettiest.'' She justified, watching you put on the dress and then the jacket you were already wearing. "And I was right.''

''What's the point of looking pretty if no one will see?'' You questioned. "If there were an Italian chef here on this highway, I wouldn't complain about wearing it. But all I'm seeing is my friend, who is high and can barely hold a glass of lemonade.''

"I said I'm sorry! Can't you drive any slower?''

"Why? There aren't any other cars, it's not every day we see this highway empty...'' You looked ahead, being able to see only the small area that the car's headlight could reach; beyond that, it was a deep darkness. ''Speaking of this road... how long until we finish it?''

''Hmm... let me see...''

You both got into the car and closed the doors together. Louise unfolded the map and stared at it as she ran her hand through her hair, which reflected a coppery sheen in the interior light of the car, her eyes fixed on the paper, where the lines of the map seemed to contort like snakes, mocking you both, forked tongues waving between the names of the highways.

''We're here.'' She indicated on the map.

"Are we still in Maryland?''

''Yes, but five miles and we'll be in Delaware...'' She said, sighing with boredom, while you stepped on the gas. ''If we take the Delaware Memorial Bridge we'll be there in about two hours.''