“What will we do once we hit Tuscon?” Mike asked, sliding the door open and peering out, before shutting it again.

The question bothers me.

“Is there really a goal?” I ask him, while lighting a cigarette.

“No. I mean, is there? Did we ever stop to think what the fuck we were actually doing? "

“Just wanted to get away.”

“From what?”

“Cash, school. No families.”

“Will we find any of those in Tuscon?”

“No.”

“Will we find any of those anywhere?”

“Maine.” I respond, passing him the cigarette.

He smiles and takes a hit. The smoke collects in the roof of train cart, but is quickly sucked out by cracks in the walls.

“What do we have here?” he asked, passing the smoke back to me.

“We’ve got a cig down to the filter, you fucking bastard” I said, while flicking the butt at him. “I suppose we have a family here. What’s getting you thinking about all this?”

“Old food going to my head, I guess”

“Yeah.” I replied, before drifting off to sleep.