“It’s vanilla,” said Eddie triumphantly, and instead of saying “I know” and killing his spirits, I nodded slightly, probably too subtly for him to notice, and took another sip. I would probably be annoyed with me were I Eddie, I had time to hear myself think before Eddie finally got too annoyed by my prolonged silence and forced himself to speak again. “How was outside?” ended up being his choice of sounds to start me tuning in with him again.
“I don’t think there’s anything going on tonight,” I said, and then took a long drag from the milkshake as if to enhance the moment of my self-inflicted dramatic pause. I smacked my lips together and cold vanilla liquid slid through my throat. “The street was totally dead.” As well it should have been, since we were situated so far away from the center of town, in more of a quiet rural neighborhood than a city side-street. The only reason we were here really, was because inexplicably it was Eddie’s favorite spot. I’ve no clue how he found it in the first place, but once he did he kept coming back. The first time we went in there he had muttered something about knowing the owner, but that hardly seemed a reason to burden ourselves with going so far out of our way to have a quiet place to chat, smoke, drink, talk, think. It was weird, his obsession for it. Sure, it was quiet and comfortable, but I didn’t get the massive appeal. Apparently neither did anyone besides Eddie, either, because the entirety of the upstairs area in which we now sat was void of all other human life.
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