Runaways

Sam stood by Emily's car holding the manilla envelope in his hand, weighing his options. On the one hand, he could wait an extra day on the chance that Emily would show up. On the other hand, Sam had told her in the grocery store in that town 30 miles away that yesterday was the last day that the apartment was theirs, and they could no longer be room mates, since they would no longer have a room to be mates in.

It isn't as though they had actually shared that particular apartment, which was now vacated. Sam had moved all their belongings from a ground floor apartment to a second floor studio apartment six months before. He felt duty bound to tell Emily where she then had her residence. He asked around town. Nobody had seen her there, so he went to the next town over and asked around there. Someone had seen her riding around in the hearse. Yet another witness reported that the hearse belonged to the tattoo artist on Water Street.

The tattoo artist claimed that he hadn't seen Emily in two months, she had only slept in the studio for a couple of weeks. Sam went to the grocery store then for a couple of Frappacinos™. Emily got in the checkout line behind him.

"We moved." Sam said, "We aren't in the same apartment. We're upstairs on the left corner now."

"Wait." she asked "You mean you still consider us room mates?"

"Well yeah. You never told me we weren't."

"That's sweet." she said.

Outside the grocery store Sam asked, "Do you want a ride home?"

"Not right now. I've got some things to do here. I'll get a ride sometime soon though."

That had been six months before. This last time, the Friday before, Sam saw her again in the grocery store. "We have to move out of the apartment." He told her "I walked out from my job and the manager said I had to move out immediately after I told her."

"Why'd you walk out?"

"I came in on my day off wearing my field jacket and carrying something in my hand. All my co-workers ran. Some ducked behind counters. They seemed very frightened. After I slipped the copy of my re-certification, which I was carrying, under the administrator's office door, it struck me that I couldn't work around people who were that frightened of me, so I walked out."

"Oh wow!" she exclaimed, "What ya gonna do now?"

"I just sold all my valuables for five hundred bucks, that ought to last me for the rest of my life. I guess I'll just hit the road. We have to be out by Monday. Do you want a ride to our apartment to get whatever stuff you want?"

"Not right now. I've got some things to do here. I'll get a ride sometime soon though" she said, "Do you still have the envelope? That's really all I care about."

"Still got it. But you really need to pick it up by Monday."

"Good, good," she said, "I'll see you by Sunday."

So here it was, Monday, three days later. Sam was still holding the manilla envelope that contained all of Emily's cherished treasures. He threw it on top of her clothes that he had loaded her car with, tossed the keys on the floorboard, closed the car door, hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and walked away with no idea whether he would be alive or dead a month later.

A year and a half later, Sam had a new job and was living in the garage of an acquaintance who had taken him in. She told him that Emily had been asking around town about where he could be with her treasure. Sam told her that she should put the word out that it most likely ended up in the impound with her car. Most likely the manager had been waiting anxiously for the chance to have it towed.

Now the moral of the story is this:

If you are a habitual runaway, don't rely on others to hold your treasures for you. They may just find it necessary to run away themselves.