Good For Gone

Alley Looker

I never wear pajamas outside, but there's no time.

It's still dark as I walk through campus, even the night owls are asleep at this hour.

The darkness creeps me out, but I have to check. I have to see if he's there, even if I don't want to.

I don't even know what I would do if it was him. Cry, probably. Maybe run away. It's not like there's a proper way to handle something like that.

It was a decently long walk to the alley, and by the time I rounded the corner to it I could see the sun peeking between the other buildings.

The same people huddled on the ground in the alley asleep. I felt an odd sense of relief. This was hard to explain.

The spot with the purple dice was still there, but had been moved around, so it was definitely in use. But there was no one there.

I was flushed with a strange flood of relief. I'm not sure if I was more afraid of finding him, or shattering the illusion that it might find him. Both scared me equally.

I wanted to see him again more than anything. But I knew that the new life I'd constructed was fragile, and it was the only thing keeping me going.

I crouched down next to the bed of clothes, using the tips of my fingers to shift a jacket sleeve that covered the dice.

Picking them up I looked over them, trying to see if there was anything that could prove my theory. Sadly these dice were the same as mine as every pair of fuzzy dice in the world, including my own. I brought them to my nose, inhaling and catching just the faintest hint of something familiar before I was interrupted.

"What are you doing?" I heard the rasping voice and jumped up, dropping the dice.

A woman, who had been asleep on a manhole a second ago, was awake and sitting up.

She looked older, but also like most of the years were added by stress rather than time. Deep circles drooped under her eyes and her jaw set awkwardly, as if missing teeth.

"I was just, um," I stammered, trying to think of a way to explain this, but failing, "Who does this belong to?"

I point to the spot I'd been leaning over.

She just shrugged, picking at her long yellow fingernails.

"Is it like a," my voice shook, "young man?"

Again, all I got was a shrug.

"Where are they?" I try, but my efforts are still met with a passively silent response.

I sighed, too tired to beg for information from this defensive woman.

I took out my wallet and grabbed a few singles, dropping one each on the sleeping people, saving the woman and the empty spot for last.

As I lay the final bill next to the dice I say, "Well make sure he gets this, okay?"

She eyes me with obvious distrust, but says, "Okay, I'll give it to him."

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