Having spent much of my life being told I’m “too much,” being told that I should be more myself—more David in his natural state—is a strange pill to swallow. And I’m afraid I don’t recommend it. Then again, these are strange times, and perhaps it’s time for stranger things to happen.

A cigarette appeared in Cy’s mouth like a jump cut.

“I’m like Peter Pan and ya’ll are my misfit toys.” He scratched his gut over the smoothed down 4x t-shirt.

“The lost boys.” Jetta corrected him thru her own cigarette. “This is what we do when we come back from running away.”

She sat and bolted one from the freshly opened bottle.