Short:

"You Can Leave Anytime You Want"

I was feeling fed up. It was about that time where I usually get fed up: middle of the week, after long day of work, getting a late dinner with my friend Carrie. She sat there staring at her sandwich and chips (they haven't served my burger yet. She quite polite), and casually sipped her fountain drink as I ran off the dozens things that were going wrong that particular week.

When I'm done, I usually say, "Well anyway, how has your week been?" But I didn't. Carrie leaning her arms on the table, holding her head up with her hands.

"You could move," she said smiling at me.

It's something I thought about pretty regularly. Moving to a big city, either New York or San Francisco or Los Angeles, or maybe even Portland or Austen. I like art and music so it would make sense. I'd probably feel more alive and comfortable. I don't know that many people there so it would be like a fresh start. I could meet new people.

My food came and I thanked the red haired waitress that was serving us. She was pretty. She had nice skin. I could tell that we probably liked the same stuff. By looking at her shoes - weathered, red faded Converse - I imagine I probably could have a decent conversation about French New Wave films and that she most definitely would have gone with me to an Animal Collective concert if I had an extra ticket.

"I like your shirt," the waitress said. I was wearing a Pavement shirt my ex-girlfriend made me two Christmases ago. I knew it. She's not far from reach. If only Radiohead was playing near by and that I had a spare ticket. I'd take her and hold her hand in the middle of a song I know she likes.

I thanked her on the compliment.

"Where did you get it?" she replied.

"Oh, it's really old," I said.

"Cool," she said and then stood there for a few seconds holding an empty plastic tray in her hand. I don't know why. I wanted to say something, but instead looked at my food on the table.

"Well if you need anything else..."

"Thanks," Carrie said.

And that was that.

I waited for her to leave, before I would go on describing how ridiculous and obviously stupid Carrie's ideas about moving were. Everything I have is here: school, my part-time job, some friends that I like.

Maybe a millisecond before I spoke, I pictured myself on a train going through green woods. I was sitting next to a suitcase. My suitcase. It was filled with nothing but clothes. I reached in my pocket for my cell phone, realizing that I had forgotten it. But that was all right. I looked out the window as the trees turned into golden fields.

"Well enough about me. How are you? How has your week been?" I said and then bit into my greasy cheeseburger.