Is that the best you can come up with? he asked. This story about being in love and then out of love; unable to make up your mind. Your teen years have long passed you by, he told her. We’re of that age where we know. Right? We’re sure of these things.

I don’t know, she said. I feel for you, I really do. But I don’t know. My mind wanders. One day, all is good, next I’m thinking of hopping on a bus and getting out of here, she said.

Where to?

Don’t know.

You keep saying that.

What?

Don’t know. What do you know? The waitress brought over a pot of coffee. She filled both cups. Let’s look at some facts. You’re over fifty. At thirty, you can take on anything. Fifty? Different ball game. Number two. What’re you going to do for money? You can’t hustle anymore. I mean, you could, but who’d want you. You’re chasing a dream, dear. All your life you been chasing dreams. Time to stay put.

I hear this voice telling me to get on that bus. Saying, pick a place, and go.

Be careful. Those voices will kill you.

And you won’t?

The pimp laughed. He reached out for her hand. Stick with me. Stick with me. Haven’t I always taken care of you? She nodded her head. Damn right I have. He checked his watch. Drink up. We gotta get going. Jeopardy’s coming on.