We shared a subtle, melancholic laugh. The same type of melancholy you receive from the next-day's hangover, maybe due to spending half the day the night before. Maybe realizing you've been ******* up so bad, like taking some of your poor mom's money, the one she's been trying to save for all of us, that it had to come to this. Come to you dreaming, fantasizing about a future, about how you'll get that movie role after the journey, the book deal, some kind of viral fame, and in the end, wherever it was or still is, nothing; neither a question nor an answer. And maybe there are none, maybe you're not supposed to look for something...yet still trying, still wanting to find some *thing.