“What’s your name?” you ask.
There was no reason for it. None at all. Even now, I don’t know why I did it. More so, I know I would have wondered why I didn’t do it, should I have chosen not to. All I know is, I got out of that city. That state. That country. I left everything behind. I swapped out my clothes in the next town, and shredded my card. Bought a knife off the third guy I met. I bought a scoop of ice cream and left a 172 dollar tip.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I reply.