“Alrighty then. Shall we?” Avi gestured towards the front door with keys in hand, and Mitch took the cue, making his way outside and towards Avi’s Honda Fit. There were two beeps, and Avi called out from the front porch, “It should be open now!”

The door handle was tugged, and Mitch opened the door and unceremoniously dropped down into the passenger seat. It was much cleaner than his, or even Jodie’s car, without a single napkin or fast food bag strewn about the floor. The back driver’s side door was opened, and Avi poked his head in. “I’m just gonna lower the backseat so that there’s more trunk space. Is this gonna be big enough to transport everything? I didn’t even think to ask.”

“It’ll be fine,” Mitch confirmed. “I don’t have a lot of stuff to begin with.”

“Cool, me neither.” The backrests were laid flush with the seats, and Avi hopped into the driver’s seat. “Being a nomad sort of does that to you. Makes you re-evaluate possessions.”

“Oh,” Mitch barked out a quick laugh. “It’s less that, and more-” he caught himself he could finish the sentence.

“More what?” Avi buckled up and smiled, seeming genuine in his inquisitiveness. Mitch swallowed hard.

“My ex. He’s…very particular about how he likes things. And a lot of my things, he didn’t like.”

Avi’s face scrunched. “Well that sucks!”

Mitch, completely taken aback by the reaction, cracked up. “It kind of did, yeah!”

“So let’s go get your shit so you don’t have to throw it away ever again!” Looking into the mirror, Avi put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

“Sounds good,” Mitch grinned despite himself. It was the first time that he didn’t get a pitiful tsk or a sympathetic spiel about being “valid” or whatever. It was the first time that he wasn’t getting the kid-glove treatment when it came to Calvin’s bullshit.

God, was it ever refreshing.

“Anyway, food. I’m fine with just Starbucks, if there’s one around. Unless you want…what is it you’re all crazy for out here? Dunkin Donuts, right?” He made a face.

“That’s so many syllables, just call it Dunks.”

“Thanks for the tip, I’m trying to blend in,” winked Avi. “Can you tell I haven’t been in this area for a while?”

“I believe in you,” Mitch snorted. “But yeah, there’s a Starbucks like 5 minutes away at Whitney Field, off of Route 2. And uh,” he looked down at his hands. “This one’s on me.”

“That’s awfully generous. I promise I won’t get too many shots of espresso.”

“Hey, whatever you gotta do to get through Connecticut.”

“Oh, fair. I don’t miss riding the bus from Boston to Hartford to New York during a tour.” They turned off of Mechanic Street and onto Commercial Road, passing a Home Depot and a decrepit mall that was somehow still open. “And that was before smartphones were so readily available.”

“Oof, must’ve been rough.” His response was mostly a joke, but he couldn’t tell if Avi got that.

“Truly, the Dark Ages”, Avi nodded sagely with a firm jaw for dramatic effect, but his face reverted back to its genial demeanor within seconds. “Oh, but speaking of smartphones, we need a playlist! We can load stuff up before we get on the highway.”

“Sure, I guess?”

“What do you want to listen to? Like not to brag, but I have Spotify Premium. Ads? No way. Not for this guy.” He pointed a thumb at himself and gave an exaggerated nod.

“Nah man,” Mitch giggled at the absurdity of the statement. “You’re driving, you pick the tunes. It’s only fair.”

“I listen to my own music all of the time,” Avi gave a dismissive wave. “Besides, we’re heading into what I gotta assume is the least fun way to spend a Saturday. So you should get to do something that’ll make it at least a little better.” He turned into the parking lot and pulled into an open space.

“OK, but I can’t really think of anything other than like ‘mopey man music’ at the moment? That’s kind of been my headspace, and it doesn’t make for, y’know, fun car rides,” Mitch kept his voice low as they entered Starbucks, not wanting to alert anyone to his pathetic plight.

“What kind of mopey? Indie? Emo?” His massive arms folded across his chest as he studied the menu that was above them, his head titled as though he was processing every bit of information the world had to offer.

“Grunge? Iunno, like Pearl Jam?”

“Pearl Jam’s fine,” assured Avi. “I’m from Washington, y’know. I can dig Eddie’s dulcet tones from time to time.”

“That’s…huh? Don’t know why, but I thought of you as a California guy?” Scratching at his facial hair, Mitch wasn’t sure how he’d built up that image in his head, or why he’d even shared it.

“You’re not far from the mark. I’m originally from Santa Barbara, but my family moved to Everett when I was a kid.” As Avi explained, the cashier beckoned them forward and he placed his order. He then turned to Mitch and asked, “You hungry yet?”

“No,” Mitch shook his head, pulled out his debit card, and waited for the prompt to appear on the pinpad. “But I’ll have a grande iced coffee, black.”

“And this apple,” Avi grabbed one from the basket that was next to the register. It was passed to Mitch after they stepped away.

“Wait, why am I in charge of this?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunched as he turned it in his hand and examined it.

“In case you get hungry later,” Avi beamed with an earnestness that Mitch could only envy.