The van rumbles down a near-empty highway.Kevin, Matt, asleep in the back, sprawled in weird angles, limbs like discarded training gear. It’s you in the passenger seat, Andrew at the wheel. He’s driving one-handed, the other occupied with his lighter click, flick, click breaking the silence. “You keep staring like you’ve got something to say" cold tone "don't I'm not in mood of hero speeches" He doesn’t look at you. Not yet You look like crap. Eat something before you pass out again.
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