And that's when they'll see.

I wanted a cigarette, and I wanted the stitch in my side to fade.

He was sitting in the grass, and his face was ill-defined in the shadows. I was standing on a fence, one hand against a signpost. The light of a cell-phone screen appeared briefly in his hand before disappearing.

Cars. So many cars. I don't know where they were going. I don't know why they were going there, either. Pairs of headlights rushed past in their own little existences. One turned onto the grass, blinding me.

He still hadn't moved.