Where's Josiah; He'd Like to Know

As directed, Josiah lugged the bags inside, unknowing and uncaring what was inside. His mind was on Tessa, his girl, his woman, his reason for living, loving and self-loathing. Sure, the car ride was a bit crowded, but she hardly said a word to him, just sat there with that weird look on her face.

The bags deposited in their place Josiah avoided the group in the living room and trudged to the bag door. She was probably out there smoking, such a filthy habit. But she wouldn’t quit, not for him anyway.

The air stung is face but somehow he welcomed the pain, the semblance of feeling in an otherwise numb life. He took a drag of the icy air like she took drags from her cancer sticks. The back yard sprawled away into the dark, running on into a greenbelt or park or something.

The noise in the house behind him was abrasive. Tessa was nowhere to be seen. The bags mocked him from their hiding place. His friends, if he could call them that, hardly noticed his departure. Only the darkness seemed welcoming.

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