Matt Malloy

You don't believe me?

Check it out yourself.

Call Eric.

I know you don't.

I can give you his number right now.

I also have a travel agent called Eric.

He'd lie for me too.

When the plane reached the gate, he was still talking on his mobile, giving all the answers I would have given, without a trace of emotion.

Like a parrot in a world where time flows backwards, repeating whatever is about to be said instead of what's been said already.

His answers were the best ones under the circumstances.

His circumstances weren't too hot, not too hot at all.

Mine weren't either.

Nobody was answering my call, but just listening to the man who knew what I was about to say made me stop trying.

Just listening to him, I could tell that this was a hole that even if I dug my way out of, it would be to a different reality.

She'd never forgive me.

She'd never trust me.

Ever.

Ever.

All my coming trips would be hell on earth, and the time in between would be even worse.

He went on talking and talking and talking.