disease//weston koury

the note

9/4/16

the next day

i wake up to find myself on a bench.

hugging my duffel bag?

i get up and pull out the handle on the duffle bag.

as i walk, i notice some other people are sleeping on the grass, benches, or the sidewalk.

they're homeless.

and so am i.

i put my hand in my left pocket of my hoodie.

it's kinda chilly for a day in August.

i feel a crumbled piece of paper in the tiny pocket.

i stop to open up the paper.

i spot a bench nearby and walk over to it.

after a couple of steps i take a seat.

i un crumble the note and scan the paper.

i realize it's the same note i got yesterday from stella.

i read the note in stella's neat handwriting.

Dear Ava,

While you were in the bathroom my mother called and asked me where I was. I couldn't lie to her because she would notice. I told her I was driving to North Carolina. I didn't tell her you were with me. She told me to come back immediately. I wrote this note and gave it to Alex at the gas station to give it to you.

i stop reading.

i look back at the note.

but at the bottom i see something i didn't read those past couple of times.

I still want you to achieve your goal of meeting this boy so I left $50 in the envelope so you can ride a train to there.

i don't see an envelope.

that alex guy must've took it.

i need to start walking.

so i do.