Yesterday - Friends

By Michael Merline

He was different, that's all. Different enough to matter, to tell her friends off, to piss of her folks. She left home with a small bag and a couple tapes. They drove out of state, and when he asked her for money for gas, she paid. When they stopped, she checked them in.

In the morning, after he had gone, she found the bus station and stared up at the big board full of destinations. They all looked exotic, like a list of fairy tale places. She bought as much ticket as she could afford with what was left. Then she waited for a time, and finally boarded, looking straight forward from her seat, and never looked back.