nolan_void

Devin found a table next to the window and sat down to eat. Cafeteria food was meager, but he had skipped breakfast and ate out for lunch so it would have to suffice. He looked up to the crimson streaks of cloud painted by the setting sun, the full moon already beginning to glow. He was always restless on full moons.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see someone looking around, holding their tray and looking around the room, probing for somewhere to sit. Devin saw the figure look right in his direction. He opened his copy of Inferno and pretended to read. He hadn't met many people since he came to college and he didn't really want to start now. It was better to just keep everybody away, to maintain the illusion that they might be nice people. He found that the more he got to know anyone, the more ugly they became.

The ruse had failed. The stranger came up to Devin's table and asked, "Mind if I sit?" Devin raised his eyes to him, but said nothing. "I'll take that as a yes," said the stranger. There was awkward silence for a few minutes.

"You don't want me to sit here, do you?," the stranger asked rhetorically.

"However did you know?," Devin did not look up this time.

"I can read people pretty well," the stranger in a pleasant tone.

"Yet you're still here, talking to me," Devin said.

"I don't believe everything I read," answered the stranger, his mouth full of stale french fries. Devin was silent. Contrary to his good sense, he hoped that if he ignored the problem it would resolve itself. The stranger looked at him for a minute, chewing carefully and furrowing his brow as if in the midst of a curious contemplation.

"So how'd your girlfriend die?," he finally asked. Devin closed his book and looked up at him. "Ooo, I got your attention now, " the stranger remarked as Devin layed his icy gaze upon him. The unwanted guest laughed, "I'm just askin' because she won't tell me. I think she's ashamed or something."

"Who are you?," Devin's voice rang deep, calm, and cold.

The stranger shoveled more food into his mouth, chewed, and looked at Devin for minute. He thought about playing with him a little bit longer, but realized that he had struck a sensitive chord and decided against it. "Ethan," he stuck his hand out. Devin quickly slapped it away. "You don't have to be an asshole," Ethan said, "She just wanted me to tell you that she was sorry for not listening to you."

Ethan picked up the salt shaker and looked at it's thin plastic bottom. He placed three pennies on the table in a stack and set the salt shaker on top of them, then raised one hand up and quickly dropped down hard. He lifted the shaker and let all the salt spill out onto the table and then got up and walked away. Devin watched him go, unable to decide if he was more angry or intrigued. Ethan put his tray through the kitchen window and walked briskly up the stairs. Devin shooks his head and turned back towards his food. The salt had formed a snowy landscape on the table, and as if written with a finger in the middle of it was the name "Erica". Devin sat for a few minutes staring into it. It was amazing what he still had a hard time believing in.

Devin found him outside smoking. He wrapped his overcoat around him to keep out the chill as he walked over to the bench where Ethan sat. His breath was foggy and it looked like they were both smoking. "Why did you say those things to me?," Devin asked.

"On a scale of one to ten, go fuck yourself," Ethan answered. The wind rustled the few leaves that were left on the trees around them. Ethan took another long drag.

"I'm not going to apologize," Devin said. "You can imagine how it sounds when someone you've never met sits down beside you and starts making light of tragedies you've been trying to bury for years."

Ethan put the cigarette out on the arm of the bench and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "I hate cigarettes," he shook his head, "Why in the hell I ever started smoking these goddamn things, I'll never know."

He looked up at Devin, surveying him. "I'm not doing you any more favors. But if you get me drunk enough, I'll probably tell you anything you want," Ethan stood up. He started walking and Devin followed.

Ethan sipped his first draft and sighed with satisfaction. "I love the first beer, when the glass is still all cold and covered with frost," he remarked. Devin watched him stare off into the crowd, watched him watch them. There were lots of people in groups, laughing and yelling and having a grand ol' time. A bittersweet smile crossed Ethan's face and he took another drink.

"Do you hear dead people a lot?" Devin asked.

"Only when they want me to," Ethan replied.

"What else did she say to you?," Devin asked.

"Not much else," Ethan said, "She asked me if I knew you, and I said yeah, you were the guy with the mind like Alcatraz." He thought for a moment, "Maybe better than Alcatraz, cause' nobody gets in or out."

"What do you mean?" Devin asked.

"You're tough to read," Ethan said. Devin looked at him with uncertainty. "I'm betting with walls like that built up, you must have something really important hidden in that head of yours. Of course, I can't tell for sure, but I'd put money on it."

Devin smirked. He thought of how in the short time he had known this man he found him taking the Lord's name in vain, selling secrets from beyond the grave for beer, and gambling on the devil. He knew a good sinner when he saw one.

"It's only a sin if you feel guilty for it," Ethan said out loud finishing his beer.