spread em and go

November 2004 story by two friends. the finale in a 4 part series. (lowercase is one friend, uppercase is the other)

AFTER FOUR AGONIZING YEARS, SHE WAS A SUCCESSFUL JOURNALIST, LIVED IN A BEAUTIFUL TOWNHOUSE IN DOWNTOWN SEATTLE, HAD A WEEKEND HOUSE IN LINCOLN CITY, OREGON. BUT UNDERNEATH IT ALL, SHE WAS SCARED AND ALONE. SHE WANTED TO ROLL OVER AND HAVE SOMEONE THERE. SHE WANTED TO COOK DINNER FOR TWO. SHE WANTED "HIS" AND "HERS" TOWELS FOR THE BATHROOM. WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR?!? SO, IN A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO 'FIND HERSELF' SHE WENT ON ONE OF THOSE SINGLES CRUISES, YOU KNOW, THE KIND WITH 200 DESPERATE SINGLES ON A HUGE BOAT TOGETHER. WELL, SHE GETS MOTION SICKNESS NUMBER ONE, AND NUMBER TWO, IT WAS A LONG 14 DAYS OF HER HIDING IN HER ROOM AND POPPING DRAMAMINE LIKE CANDY. AS THEY ARRIVED TO THE COAST IN AUSTRALIA, SHE STOPPED INTO THE FIRST TOURIST SHOP SHE FOUND. SHE BOUGHT A POSTCARD OF A CUTE LITTLE PANDA EATING EUCALYPTUS LEAVES AND SENT IT TO HER GOOD FRIEND ERIC, LONG TIME FRIEND AND OWNER OF A SMALL COFFEE SHOP IN DOWNTOWN BOSTON. SHE LOVED WHEN HE CALLED HER "RED LOCK". his favorite cologne he wore was eucalyptus cologne by thymes, only because "she" loved it so much. 'eric', he read, who's eric? that didn't matter- but unfortunately the postcard was post marked from a cruise liner...still no way to track her down. it's only irony, right, nothing to ponder. until just then, a red-haired girl walked in and ordered a grande iced chai, her favorite drink. it was not her, but something clicked. this can't be happening, just then a slam poet yelled in a deep voice- "everything will be okay in the end, if it's not okay, it's not the end" therefore, "everything happens for a reason"! then the poet fell backwards onto the rug that covered the hard wooden floor. the guy grabbed the postcard off the board and ran out the door. where am i going, he thought, but never stopped. he got a bag packed, got on a bus not knowing where he is going, just got on the first bus out of boston. what lies ahead is now a mystery that will soon be solved. p.s. fate knows. fate knows.

I was 21 when this was written. oy oy oy