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His options came down to the flip of a coin.
Tails marked a continuation of the same. Nap, wake, scrounge for something to eat. Reflect, sigh, cross town on fumes to be an underpaid customer service agent all day. End his shift, scrounge again, play the role of the sexy, unattainable bartender all night.
Tending had brought him unfathomable status. He could get whatever he wanted—whoever. A perfectionist and deft apothecary, he watched his concoctions enact their graceful dance across the slurred tongues of his patients. He delighted in the fluttering of delicately painted eyelids and the ragged sighs of pleasure that escaped as liquid passion entwined with taste buds upon that first sip.
He was a God among men.
Yet, he tired of the dark side of that nightlife. There was emptiness deep within him—an insatiable thirst. Despite his nightly attempts to fill this void, the vacuum simply grew larger, more desperate. He had everything and everyone, yet, he was poor and alone.
Heads was to sell everything he owned for gas money and do as many before him had. He would travel West, Reno, to be exact, and start anew.
In the darkness, the metallic twang of a flicked coin echoed.
Heads it was.
There was a plan—sort of. His possessions found homes with people who loved them more than him. He made phone calls. Interviews were lined up. It was simply a matter of getting out of town.
As he walked out the front doors of the office, he felt free. Almost too free. Dropping everything and running away felt alien and careless, naughty, even. His final stop was to be a little bar on the Strip for one last cold one with a few of his boys. He decided it would be in and out. He didn’t want the sunset in his rear view that evening.
He slowed the silver hatchback as the light turned yellow. Across the intersection sat a single police cruiser. He avoided looking in the cop’s direction, but he felt as if the officer was staring directly at him. When the light turned green, he made the left turn, cautiously watching his speed and glancing in the mirror. As he feared, the cop flipped his lights on.
He would not have a beer that day. The sunset would not be seen through the cement walls of his eight by eight cell. Reno would not be his final destination. The detours he took in this life would lead him right back to the beginning, and he would start over—with nothing.