“So, we’re pretty much done. Crazy, right?” Chuck yells into my ear.

“Now what?” I bark to keep the conversation going.

“Time to park it on mom’s couch and make Craigslist my homepage.”

“Christ, this is sad. Why didn’t anyone tell me to stop studying journalism?” I asked.

“Yeah, like I’m going to take a shit on your dreams. Pass.”

Right then I’m wondering if it was ever my dream or just something that made sense at one point and that I was too scared to try new things. My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. Maybe it’s her. We need to talk. My heart always aches. She has to care. She’s not a robot like she says she is, right? Can anyone truly be this way? REALLY?! I wonder. I feel like the only guy who acts like such a girl when it comes to women. I’m such a pussy.