They sat on stools at a truck stop in Wichita. She watched as he poured sugar into coffee and a good dose of cream. The young man slurped his drink while the teenage girl twisted and stirred her Coke with a straw. The girl kept looking at him, almost staring. He just kept on drinking his coffee.

Walter remembered their first meeting as he sat on the couch drinking beer and smoking a cigarette. He remembered the way her hair was down over and around shoulders that were almost frail. The old man thought about how skinny she was; not his type. But the blonde hair and green eyes got to him.

You sure are loud, Thelma laughed. Sounds like you’re inhaling that coffee, she smiled. Are you?

Am I what?

Inhaling it.

No, he said. Just enjoying it. It’s hot. Been driving all night.

Where you heading?

Nowhere. Everywhere. Just driving.

Sounds like you’re running away.

Maybe I am.

That’s what I’m doing. Running away. That’s my bag over there in the corner.

Better watch that.

Waitress said she’d keep an eye on it for me.

That’s not her responsibility.

Maybe you shouldn’t talk about responsibility. 

Walter laughed a little. Maybe you’re right.

What are you running from?

Life. My life. Sometimes, it gets so hard I have to leave. Take off. Just go. One day, I’m in Nebraska, and the next, I’m in Kansas. No maps. No compass. Just driving aimlessly. Following road signs. Seeing what’s ahead, he pulled out a cigarette and offered it to the girl. She took it, and he lit it for her with a lighter that had a bulldog on it and the word Mac.

My son picked that out, Walter said. He liked the dog on it.

You gotta son?

Yeah.

What’s his name?

Bobby.

How old?

Three.

Gotta wife?

Not sure. She might be done with me. Getting tired of the running around. Two o’clock in the morning phone calls from Indianapolis, Chicago, Albuquerque, he laughed.

You’ve been to Albuquerque?

I’ve been everywhere, darling. I might be going there now. I don’t know.

Would you like some company? Thelma asked.

Aren’t your parents looking for you?

They done gave up on me.

So has she.

The old man got up and stretched while holding his beer. Sat back down and started to cry. Memories hurt.