4. The Impossible Thing
The rental car sat in a light rain outside along the curb. I glanced outside, noting the change in weather. The harsh electric light beamed down from above our booth. Freddie flipped through the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order. "So how is life in the big city?" He said without looking up. "It's different," I sipped at my coke, "Much louder. I can hardly think when I'm there. But I'm so busy, I don't have time to think anyway." "How did you end up in Real Estate of all things? It's hardly what you wanted to do when you left. That must be some story." He glanced at me as he said that. "Well, it's just the job I was good at. Turns out, photography didn't suit me." I shrugged. The exit sign blinked behind Freddie. "It suited you alright before you moved to New York." He put his menu down. "What's that supposed to mean?" I was beginning to sense that...
