Conversation · Tommy Le Homme

"It's never a good time to quit." He shakes his head. "You just gotta sit it out, friend."

"Anything else I can help you with?"

"Did I ask for your opinion?"

"No, my man, you asked for my cigarettes." There's sadness in his voice; he doesn't seem offended, though.

"Yeah, I can quit any time I want."

"Okay, man, I believe you." He gives you a funny look.

"You're right. I should use this as an opportunity to start anew."

"Right, man -- anew." He adds with a smile and a nod: "The phoenix at the traffic jam."

"Sure you smoke. You're smoking right now."

"Okay..." His eyes smile. "But this is my last one. And it's a bad habit. You should quit before both of us have lung cancer."

Are you sure you don't already have lung cancer?

Yup. Nothing wrong with that statement. Your senses have nothing to add. You'll have to ask around elsewhere.

What do you see in his eyes?

In his eyes? A half-familiar longing. Flecks of brown and gold.

Familiar -- how?

It's hard to say. His gaze wanders southwest -- down the street that goes beyond the horizon...

The road continues for miles, flowing together with other roads, turning into causeways or bridges, ending suddenly in dead ends -- or ramping up or down highways. It forms a criss-cross pattern across the land...

Where does it lead?

Above the Jamrock Quarter, in the form of a raised motorway, and then the never-ending sprawl of Faubourg. High above buildings new and old, the air filled with the rumble of motor engines.

Further...

To the Old-Old South, to the farthest outskirts of Revachol. Through the chequered fields of farmland, upstream to the River Esperance, past Monte-Martin... The border approaches.

What's beyond the border?

You cannot see. It's out of the city. Up ahead, the mist blocks all sight. A gale blows across your cheeks... it is cold. Before you stands a tall lorry driver with sad eyes.

"What's in the southwest?"

"Excuse me?" He emerges from the reverie.

A flinch jolts his frame. The question has touched a nerve.

"I'm a cop, I can fix anything."

He chuckles. "There are things even a cop can't fix, my man. There's no helping an absence, you know?"

"I miss my family. They're all I have, my wife... a second kid on the way... waiting all the way in Deora. And here I am, stuck in this shit, so far from home."

"What's it like to miss someone?"

"What's it like? Good. And bad. An ache that brings you joy." He smiles warmly. "I think of them a lot. I dream up these silly scenarios, in great detail. Of living with them... it comforts me."

There's a pause and a sigh. Then he turns his eyes to you. "What about you, cop-man? You missing someone?"

Is that what it is -- this feeling?

No. It's scarier than that. You're pursued by a hunter. Smelling of apricots and sorrow. And the past.

"I miss my gun. I lost it."

"You lost your gun? Oh man, that's bad news. Especially here, in Martinaise. I hope you find it soon before things turn foul."

"But... thanks for this. It's nice to talk to someone. And I know it wasn't easy to ask." He smiles. "I hope you find your way through your own troubles."

"I'm fine man, I don't miss anyone."

"I feel for you, my friend. It's good to miss someone. I like it. Knowing there's something more than what I have with me here."

"I miss someone but I don't know who it is."

"I feel for you, my friend. It's bad enough to know who you miss... missing like that doesn't feel like it has much of an upside."

"No. I feel hunted."

"Hunted? By what?"

"By a shadowy figure known only to me as the ex-something."

"An ex-wife?"

A pain burns in your chest, radiating. A crown of arteries on fire.

"Yeah - no. It's more like a sound. A black reverb, that slipped into this reality along with me."

"Black reverb? Wow... that sounds really bad. I hope that doesn't happen to my marriage."

"Yeah, my thing has got nothing to do with marriage."

"Sure, man, if you say so..." It doesn't look like he believes you. "But look, man..."

"Thanks for this. It's good to talk to someone. I know it wasn't easy to ask, so...." He smiles. "I hope you find your way through your own troubles."

"It's definitely going to happen to your marriage too."

"Maybe it is. We're doing our best to keep ours together. I hope it's not, but you never know..." A pause. "Thanks for the dark words, I guess. I'll make sure they don't come true."

"It's good talking to someone. I know it wasn't easy to say those things, so..." He smiles. "I hope you find your way through your own troubles."

"Don't worry. I'm certain nothing bad is ever going to happen to your marriage."

"Yeah... In marriage you never know if you're doing the right thing. I hope we're doing our best to keep ours together, but -- anything can happen. Look, man..."

"Thanks for this. It's nice to talk to someone. I know it wasn't easy to ask, so...." He smiles. "I hope you find your way through your own troubles."

"First -- what is marriage?"

"Man, who even knows? It's like a legal contract, but also a bond between spirits... Every one is different, that's all I can say."

"Ex-wife? No. It's a sinister presence that hunts me across all planes of existence."