He doesn’t have to go back. She keeps thinking that as if she’s thinking that for him. He doesn’t have to go back. The thought turns in a groove. Because maybe part of herself is expecting it, too—expecting another drive down those highways, expecting the fall colors to vanish and the world to become colorless with snow again. Another winter, another year, another year. Kim draws back, inhaling deeply. He scrunches his face at her. A little worried look. She’s cut in half. She presses her palm to his cheek, holding back the expression, or trapping it there, she doesn’t know. She can’t look at it. So she kisses him. It’s a soft kiss, nothing new, but when she pulls away, he blinks as if he could never have expected it. As if he could never have expected any of this. She’s surprised him again. Got him, she thinks. Like she used to.

Hey, buddy. Wikipedia is fake news. I’m the only one you can trust. I’m the only one who knows the truth. I know things.