I followed him down the stairs, watching his hunched shoulders and lowered head express more than words could say.  We both scanned the main floor for accessories he might have left behind.  I checked the outlets for a random cord and swept my boot under the couch, fishing for a stray magazine.  Nothing turned up, so it’s time to hit the road.  

Dan stopped through my little backwoods hometown on his way north.  He and I had been friends for more than a decade now.  Meeting in college, egging each other into and out of bad decisions, roasting each other, laughing at our tragic relationships.  That’s partly what brought Dan here.  He was moving to Minnesota for reasons only he understood.  The air was better, the lakes were plentiful, he needed a change, he needed an adventure.  There was tragedy under it all.  

Dan had been dating Jamie for several months, and it all seemed to be going well.  He talked about her perfectly shaped hands, manicured nails, soft touch.  I naturally laughed at his sensitivity.  It wasn’t long before he was talking about sharing his apartment.  It was in a better location, situated on a large park, an easy commute for them both.  All the practical reasons on the table, but Dan too afraid of my teasing to just say he was falling for her.  Then there was talk of engagement when it happened.  A traffic accident, and she was gone.  I went for the funeral and fled soon after.  My gut told me to spend more time with him, but my mind was too afraid of sharing the intimacy.  I just left.  

And so Dan decided to go north.  Finding a tech job in Minneapolis was no different than finding a tech job in Dallas he said.  Air, lakes, change, and adventure were all positive and plausible alibis, though I’d argue smog and traffic in Minneapolis-Saint Paul wasn’t any better than smog and traffic in Dallas-Fort Worth.  But the process raised his shoulders and lifted his head again.  For a little while.  Until this morning.  

Despite my general negativity and sarcastic view of life, Dan chose to come here.  He surrounded himself with my friends and family, and he received love.  My mom and sister were kind and attentive, talking with him or at him for hours. I took Dan out running and began to understand his heartache.  No part of my old self wanted to go north.  I didn’t care for long drives, and I didn’t want to take time off of work right now.  Me me me.  But then Dan came.  He showed his heart.  He accepted our support.  He was vulnerable.  He chose me.  

I grabbed Dan by the shoulder and followed him out of the house.  It smelled of wet oak leaves as I locked the front door, and suddenly I was struck by how beautiful this day would be.  I swallowed hard and refused a tear.  As Dan started the car, I finally understood why we were going north.