-November 22, Columbus OH-

The morning was awkward, as to be expected. Harry wouldn't make eye contact during our continental breakfast, however he also didn't bail when I finally got that much needed shower. We packed up and checked out at a respectable time. Luckily the awkwardness has worn off now.

I turn to notice Harry has fallen slightly behind. We are heading west down a main road to one of my favorite places, the bus depot. His large suitcase on wheels is refusing to cooperate with the sidewalk, and he's struggling with his two other bags and the guitar strapped over his back. It seems whenever he gets one in order something else tumbles down.

It probably doesn't help he's trying to finagle a half-eaten burger into the mix. I turn on my heel and smile, setting my own suitcase down and adjusting the strap on my duffle to go between and not over my breast, "How about Seattle?"

"Seattle?" He says, ketchup dripping from his chin as the suitcase behind him hits a crack and takes yet another fatal tumble.

"Yeah, you know—the place has a great music scene. I bet you get famous there fast." I think we both subconsciously decided to not talk about last night. We should be able to make it to Seattle before my skin starts to rot and the smell gets too bad. There I can dump off Harry and wait out the entire event before finding him again. Then maybe we can look for Neel and his Angel. He wipes the ketchup off his chin with the hand no longer bound to his fallen luggage, and switches the burger to his other hand to pull his dreaded phone out of his pocket. He looks down at the glowing empty screen.

No one cares about him. It seems not a single person has noticed his disappearance. It's sad really, pathetic. They didn't love him and yet he's still attached to them. Something's got to change. I drop my duffle off my shoulders and set my own half eaten meal on top of it to stomp over to him. As I approach I look down at the screen to see an unopened notification from 'Hillary'.

I grab the phone and yank it out of his hands. In one frail swoop I chuck the phone as deep as I can into the four lane street next to us. His eyes freeze open and drift to the street to watch his phone bounce off the concrete curb in the middle, separate into four pieces, and slam into the side of an old van passing on the other side before getting run over by the next car. The van slams on its breaks and pulls over as I turn to Harry, "Enough," he's wide-eyed and as still as a statue like I just threw out his entire life, "You're better than them. Get over it."

I see his hands go down to his side and he takes a step back to look at his feet as vegetable bits fall onto his shoes, "Yes Ma'am..." he mumbles. Shit. Did I just treat him like his old girlfriend?

"Hey!" an angry male voice is yelled across the street, "Why you be throwin' shit at mah car!" I look over to a large husky man in denim overalls and a blond beard waving his fist in the air and trying to walk through the traffic to our side.

I move my head down to Harry's level, feeling terrible, and put a finger under his chin, lifting it up. Once I have eye contact I nod my head and say, "Run." There's a twinkle in his eyes, as if his traumatic event is already over.  He grabs his suitcase to start down the sidewalk while dropping his burger on the ground. I run back to retrieve my stuff as Harry chases to catch up. His bag rockets over a crack in the sidewalk and flips sideways. The handle catches the back of his leg forcing his knee to buckle and the guitar goes over his head. He reaches his hands out to brace for impact. One of his smaller bags launches out in front of him like a missile as he slams into the ground, the zipper rips open and dozens of small trinkets scatter across the sidewalk before the guitar slams down on top of them.

I can't help but to laugh at the entire scene as if I expected us to get away with his unbalanced load. Harry jolts up to his feet, trying to wipe dirt off his bloodied knee and elbow as the angry man makes contact. The man appears winded after trying to get across the street and his wife-beater has rolled ever so slightly up his potbelly showing us a hairy stomach. The man says something angry at Harry and pushes him back down on top of his stuff. I go back, "Hey, leave him alone!"

"What do we have here, you sure are pertty." The man aggressively steps over Harry and directs his foul body towards me.

"Leave him alone, he didn't throw it—I did."

"Where you be headin'? Don' look like you got no friends," he grunts pushing his stomach out to show us the shiny piece he has tucked under his jeans.

"West," I reply.

"Me too cutie, you comin' with me. Payback for hittin' mah van."

"He comes too." I say, pointing down at Harry.

"Whatever honey," he turns and starts back for his van, "Come on now. We don' want no trouble," he chuckles.

Harry looks at me as if I have the answers. I put out a hand to lift him back to his feet and shrug, "He has a gun," I whisper, "Come on, let's go. It's a ride west."

"But..."

"I'll kill him if he does." That shuts Harry up. I quickly help him shove the mess of figurines, black mascara, and odd jewels back into his opened pack before we cross the street after our new chauffeur. When we get across the street the man already has the rear door opened.

As we approach it I can see an overabundance of hunting equipment, chains, cuffs, empty folded cages, and a couple of body-sized bags spread out across the bottom. We both take a good look at it before lifting Harry's monster of a bag on top of the mess. I throw my suitcase into the back and keep my duffle with me as Harry keeps hold of his guitar and discards his other two bags in the back. We go to the side and slip into the furthest row from the stranger.

The driver goes around to his side and gets into his seat, as he starts the engine he chuckles back at us, "We gonna have a nice long ride." He starts humming as he pulls back onto the road.

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