"Why did you run away, David?" A blue eyed girl with
blonde hair inquired her cousin while standing up at the pantry. She was preparing tea for
the two of them, and remembered that as mad as she was, keeping your head was the key.
"I swear something's wrong. Something that Bro isn't telling me." He seemed
scared, his voice monotonous yet halting. He was fiddling with his sunglasses, his already
shitty eyesight further blinded by the lights on in the room. He looked up at his cousin,
then back down again.
"So you run away to Sweden. Dave, you're from Texas. Once winter hits, you'll
be, well, colder than a camel in a blizzard." She sat down with two steaming coffee
mugs full of the brown liquid.
Dave shivered in response. He was wearing a pullover hoodie and a jacket over
that, but he was still cold. He set his glasses down and remembered that they had his
horrifying prescription in them. He kept him off anyway. Taking a sip of his tea, he
tasted motes of honey and lemon. Like her mother always made, except it wasn't Long
"You know I have to call your your brother. He must be worried sick."
"Rose, please. Can I at least spend the weekend with you? We can go shopping or
some sh...something like that." Rose always made him censor himself, and it pained him.
"It'll take Bro a while to get his tickets and stuff."
"Exactly why you shouldn't have ran away."
Five hours later, the two were shopping in a mall. She left to go pick up a few things,
and told him it was going to be about an hour's wait.
Dave had since changed into a proper coat, his 8-bit record shirt peeking underneath. He
was looking at all of the stores' signs while sitting down, wondering what all the
gobbledygook meant. He didn't know a word of Swedish, except for what PewDiePie taught
him. And calling someone a "F*****g P***y go die" would not be wise.