Life, When You've Got Nothing Left to Lose

I sat there for a minute, feeling the breeze whip my hair across my face, breathing in the smoke.

"Eh... I'd have to say... okay."
I responded, scratching my nose.

"Oh, really? Well I...
Whoa, sorry."
He said, breathing into the phone deeply.

Thank god he noticed. He was always supposed to know when I was feeling like fuck.

"What's wrong?"

"How about... I just got kicked out of my house.
I'm sitting in the park with my things.
I can't go back."
I said, sounding a little sarcastic and harsh.

I didn't hear anything from the other line until...
"Fuck."

I laughed. "Fuck yeah."

He sighed over the phone once more.

"Because... ?"
He said, with a tired tone.

"Because she..."
He might think I still do the drug...
"She found my smokes and my OLD drugs."
I said, hoping it would work.

Moments of silence went by, and I didn't care. When someone died or got hurt, we would sit for hours on the phone, not talking.

"I'm coming. Our tree?"
He said, finally.

"Yeah. I'll see you then."
I closed the phone and watched the sun duck beneath the trees, as if it were hiding from something.