mala fide (lams)

cerebrum divisam

fragmented brain

"CAN I GIVE YOU A RIDE HOME?" asked John as they picked up their things.

Alexander placed $30 cash under the edge of his empty glass, knowing it to be about $10 too much but not minding because he only had tens and thought the waitress had been kind and deserved a tip.  After a moment he dropped another $10, hoping John didn't notice his over-tipping.

Tipping was polite, but he realized some may think he was overdoing it, perhaps to impress or flex his ability to give away money. 

He really did just want to give more.

He noticed John had left $25, which included a generous tip as his burger and shake only came to about $16.  Alexander's shake, fries, and burger had come to $20.  A $20 tip was more than generous, as far as gratuity went.

"Sure, thanks," he said finally.  He looked away from the table to not overthink anymore. 

"Where do you live?" he asked when they walked out of the diner together.  Alexander told him the address and gave him some vague landmark directions as they got in his car. 

"If you leave the school, that's in the opposite direction I'd go to go home."

"So no carpooling?" Alexander joked.

John laughed a little, but assured him, "I don't mind giving you rides." He grabbed his phone promptly after starting his car. He noticed Alexander's grin when he shuffled his playlist and the bass in the back made it feel like their very cores were vibrating with the music. Pleased, Alexander bad leaned back in his seat. The deep and unsteady electric guitar pulled him into the music.

"I love this album," John said as the car began to move, the instrumental bit of the song playing.

"Unplugged in New York is fuckin' great. I didn't think you were the type."

"The 'type'?" he questioned.

"Oh, you know. Nirvana is edgy. I didn't think you were..."

John scoffed. "Nirvana isn't edgy. Half of America likes Nirvana. It's not niche at all."

"Popular things can't be edgy?"

"No. That's what edginess is about... being different for the sake of being different."

Alexander nodded. "You have a point. But still, you know, the songs are so emo. I didn't think guys like you got all in their feels like this."

"You know, for such a smart person, you are quick to make assumptions."

To that, he fell silent, rightfully put in his place.

John listened to the music for a bit. He wanted to sing it loud, smack his steering wheel and shake his head, floor the gas pedal down a backroad. People cry, people moan. Look for a dry place to call their home.  His grip on the wheel was tight. He noticed it once Alexander spoke again, and loosened it.

"Imagine being there at that MTV concert when this was being recorded."

John smiled. "Yeah. It must have been amazing. I don't know how Cobain did it."

"Nobody does, John, nobody does." He sighed and sat up, looking out the window. "Mind if I turn this down a bit?" His hand was already on the volume - he wasn't really asking permission. "So... how are you feeling about the play so far?"