Page 150 of Wayfarers

“Valid,” I say.

“Is it really?”

“Actually, it’s kind of weird, but I wanted you to feel supported in your people-eating. What else?”

“Um—Hershey’s Kisses.”

I blush, for some reason.

“And—honestly after that I got overwhelmed. I got more crackers. I got some Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper because I have no idea what that’ll taste like. That’s a lot of flavors all at once. What do you think will happen when we combine it with your crispy M&M’s? A volcano erupting?”

“A science experiment,” I tell him.

“Possibly we’re gonna be puking rainbows all over the van.”

“Possibly? I see your possibly, and raise you ‘probably.’”

“My mom,” he says, “would be so freaked out by what I’m buying.” He doesn’t sound upset, or sad. He sounds kind of matter of fact.

“Should we get some microwave soup or something, just to put down a layer of real food before we start throwing in the little sour people?”

A bunch of white-haired dudes in Path of Totality T-shirts walk in, singing Jimmy Buffett.

“I don’t know,” Knox says. “I kind of think those guys would give us some of their chili if we asked.”

But he’s looking right past me, at something, or someone, else.

Knox Dawn Breaks

I’m thinking about how I wish

it didn’t leave my mouth so easily,

this suggestion of begging;

like the life I wanted to leave behind

still lives in me like a stowaway,

when I hear a familiar voice:

Hey, man, me and my boyfriend ran

out of gas and we need to get home

to take care of my mom who’s sick. Can you

spot us a few bucks?

And I recognize the technique—the little extra lie

offered purely for the sake of lying; the love

of the game. Hell, the first part might not

even be a lie at all. After all, we were always

running out of gas—