Wanderlust

Chapter 29

90

92

95

Levi wondered how it would feel to break 100. He wondered if it would make a difference. If it would feel any different.

98

99

The empty road stretched in front of him for miles, not a single car in sight.

100

103

A wave of disappointment crashed over him. In hindsight, he supposed there was no reason for a sudden change or revelation once he surpassed 100 miles per hour, but it was a let down none the less.

Then again, most everything in life lets you down eventually.

Stop, you aren't thinking of that, he scolded himself.

Instead he pulled out his phone, casting a glance at the deserted road before typing out the number he had never forgotten.

It rang twice before the line connected and he spoke before the other side had a chance, "2:30." He hung up before the person on the other end could respond.

Task completed, he tossed his phone into the back seat and focused his mind on the long drive ahead.

*****

It was nearly two in the morning by the time he unlocked the apartment door and stepped into the darkness.

Everything was how they'd left it less than a week before, pictures lining the wall and scattered across the floor.

He didn't bother turning on the light before he set to work, picking up each photo, one by one, and memorizing each one.

Every picture, every moment from their trip, littered around the small apartment was a moment he had let down his guard. Every photo showed his failure. Every second he needed to eternalize.

He worked through the hallway, across the living room, and into the bedroom, gathering each photo, storing their contents in his mind.

The clock read 2:26 when he finally finished in the kitchen. All the photos laid in a pile on the counter, each carefully memorized, only to be burned later.

The figure, sitting silently the entire time Levi worked, shifted in its seat but didn't speak up as the Frenchman poured himself a cup of coffee, already steaming hot in the coffee machine.

"You're early." Levi spoke up, breaking the silence.

"So are you." The figure replied.

"This is my apartment." Levi pointed out, "Then again, what is mine hasn't meant anything to you in the past, so why should it now?"

"I sense some resentment in that statement." The figure said, though there seemed to be some semblance of amusement in the man's voice. "Whatever have I done to you, my boy, to be the receiver of such a tone?"

"Oh, drop the shit, Kenny." Levi finally stalked to the light switch, coffee in hand, and illuminated the apartment,

Kenny sat at the island in the center of the kitchen, fingers idly resting on the rim of his own coffee mug. A hurt expression played across the man's features, but his eyes were mocking.

"I'm wounded, son." Kenny lifted his hand to his heart, feigning pain.

"Shut the fuck up." Levi grumbled, taking a seat across from him and sipping the bitter liquid in his mug. It was too strong, nearly pitch black, but it woke up him. Not that he was planning on falling asleep anytime soon. His mind was too wired, buzzing through the events of the day, replaying conversations, that he was afraid he'd never sleep again.