Page 114 of Two Marlboros

“Alan.”

“Yes.”

A dog barked. Twice. Three times.

“Do you ever feel empty?”

He waited for me to continue, so I did.

“Right now, I feel like a nutshell. However, if you crush it, there is nothing inside. Right now, there is nothing inside me. Do you understand that?”

“I understand that.”

“It’s like I’m not able to feel emotions. As if everything inside me turned off. Do you really understand that?”

“I do.”

“Even now, I’ve tried looking at the moon, but I don’t feel emotions. Nature doesn’t convey anything to me. I like parks, you know? Maybe because they remind me of my childhood. Now, however, they don’t remind me of anything. I feel like I’m a doll.”

“I was kind of a doll, too, for so many months.”

Alan looked at the moon, but that vision opened a smile on his lips.

“And now you’re not?”

“You know, sometimes you meet someone who makes you want to look forward again.”

“And who have you met?”

I looked at the streams of water from the fountain coming out of the nozzles. They flowed ceaselessly, swiftly, and surely mingled in the water below. I turned to Alan, who was looking down at his can. He returned my gaze many seconds later. He stared at me for a while, as if expecting something, then sketched a smile.

“You,” he replied in a low voice.

He lowered his eyes again and turned the can over in his hands. He tightened his lips, threw a glance at the trees in front of him and looked at me out of the corner of his eye, just for a moment.

“Me?”

He stopped rotating the can and looked back at it.

He blew a smile.

“You,” he repeated.

The leaves of a tree made a noise, and a bird took flight. I wasn’t sure I understood what Alan meant. Maybe he had said it just to cheer me up.

“Nathan?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry about Ryan.”

I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I already knew.”

“You already knew he was dealing?”

“No,” and I remembered the can I was holding. It was still fresh. “I already knew he was going to let me down, but I wanted to turn a blind eye. Because the moment you name something, it’s like admitting its existence, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “It becomes real.”

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