Charles and Joseph exited Ripley’s Believe It or Not, approaching a strip mall. Joseph was a few feet ahead; the strap on Charles’s sandal was digging into his skin from all the walking earlier.
“Can’t we walk a little slower or sit down?” Charles complained, quietly.
Joseph looked back but continued walking. “There’s a liquor store ahead. Do you want to stop for more beer?”
Charles sighed. I don’t want any more fucking beer, I want to have something to talk about and I want you to wait up for me.