“You’re kidding,” the man says, his eyebrows knitting together. He is tall and thin with a clean shaven face and dark brown hair. He has soft green eyes, which fall currently on the man opposite of him, the blonde woman beside going hopelessly overlooked. “Reed, you can’t be serious?”
“Of course I’m serious,” Reed responds, his eyes rolling as he leans back in his chair. Reed is just as tall as the other man, but he is much broader and blonder; his shirt fits tightly around his arms and chest. He places his arm around the girl beside him, giving her a tight squeeze before releasing his grip. The corner of the girls lips twitch upwards slightly, but she remains emotionless otherwise.
“I won’t lie about stupid s*** like that. I’m not a complete asshole," Reed adds.
The group sits in the kitchen of a well furnished house. It’s mostly grey with white granite countertops and a handful of decorations placed out on top. In the middle is a centerpiece compiled of apples, twigs, and pinecones. The room smells of pine trees and winter.
The girl places a hand on Reed, but it is light and she does not squeeze his shoulder.
“We’ll be fine, Reed,” she says quietly, glancing up to the man across from them. The man averts his gaze, looking now to the silver sink faucet. Reed lets out a short laugh, snorting as he shakes his head.
“Sure,” he begins loudly, “Sure we’ll be fine-- says the one who makes absolutely none of our income.” The girl flinches. She has nothing to say in response, leaving a thick silence to fall over the room. Eventually, she speaks, but not to Reed.
“Max?” the girl says, and the other man's head turns slightly towards her. She is sandy-haired and freckled, her eyes icy-blue and clear. Her body is thin and short, but her thick arms are proof that she would not be an easy opponent.
“You wanted to tell us something; we got a lil’ off topic,” she reminds him, biting her bottom lip.
“Right,” says Max, straightening up. “Thanks, uh-- Jenna,” he says, giving her a quick glance and an even quicker smile. “I got a promotion. They’re moving me to the city,” he tells them. Reed’s face lights up, and he nods once as a huge grin crosses his face. It is clear that his previous issues have been forgotten completely.
“No kiddin’!” he shouts, looking to Jenna for confirmation. The girl nods, but she does not cheer or speak. “Can you believe that, Jen?” he asks her.
“Nope.”
“Dude… the city,” says Reed, leaning against his chair and popping his upper back. “Remember when we were in college?” Max nods.
“We were going to get an apartment in the city,” he replies, grinning.
“Yeah man… what happened to that?” Reed asks, his smile fading. His head tilts slightly to the side as he looks at his feet.
“You were gonna make it big-- remember? Dropped out to pursue your music,” he reminds his friend. On Max’s wrist was a tattoo of a mountain range, which wraps all the way around. As he spoke he looks down at it, running his fingers across it. At this, Reed did the same, looking to a small arrow on his own wrist. He does not run his fingers across it though, instead he places his hand over it.
“Still am,” he replies quietly. Jenna looks away.

The three young adults sit in the living room now, just outside of the kitchen. The lights in Max’s house are doing a less than mediocre job at keeping the room lit, making the room appear darker than it actually is. Max sits on the left side of a white couch, Jenna on the far right. Reed takes a seat in a black recliner. Jenna stares at the light switch on the opposite side of the room. It has two switches, one for a fan and one for the light. The actual light switch is accompanied by a slider, which is placed in the middle.
“Damn,” Reed mutters, shaking his head. “They’re really gonna pay you that much more for this job?”
“That’s what I said-- it’s enough for an apartment in the city too.”
“Wait-- you’d be movin’?” Reed shifts in his chair, his left hand finding the bottom of his shirt, tugging gently on it. “Why can’t you just live here?”
“Yeah but it’s no big deal, really. You won’t be too far,” he responds.
“I guess… It’s farther than we live now,” Reed reminds him. “What about your dad? If you went to work for him you’d be paid the same and you’d live nearby.”
The room falls silent, the only sound being the gentle tinkling as Jenna swirls her glass, ice colliding with one another and the sides. It hangs in the air for a little while before Reed turns to Jenna.
“Hey Jen? Did you ever hear back from...” he begins to ask, but his voice trails off at the end and he bites his cheek as he stares at her.
“SAIC,” Max fills in for him.
“Oh.” Jenna nods. “They called me this morning, I was gonna tell you after--”
“Didja take it?” Reed interrupts. Max lets out a loud breath, and Jenna turns to face him. He looks away. Jenna crossing her arms, her pointer finger and thumb rubbing together as she turns to look back at Reed.
“I told them I wanted to talk to--”
“But it pays more, right?” He interrupts again. From the corner of her eye, Jenna sees Max’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip. She let out a soft breath.
“Yes, it does. But I was--”
“Then why didn’t you say yes right away?” He asks, eyes boring into her. “There are so many other artists better than you that they could ask,”
“Because, Reed, I wanted to talk to you about it,” she says finally, groaning loudly. She finally manages to get in a solid sentence, but she does not appear relieved.
“What’s there to talk about?”
“She’d have to move to the city,” Max chimes in, staring at Jenna directly now. She pauses, rigid as she looks to see Reed’s reaction.
“Why?” he asks. Jenna loosens up, swallowing and sucking in air as she begins to speak.
“The university isn’t close, you know that,” she says. Max looks away. “I figured you’d come with though.”
“But I don’t have to?” Reed asks.
“Well… we really can’t afford two houses.”
“You’d live in an apartment.”
“What’s so appealing about Orland Park that you can’t leave with me?”
“I’ve got my music. You really want me to give up my music for this stupid job?”
In their discussion, Jenna had begun to lean forward, she falls back into the couch and slumps down. Max stares at her, twitching as if he wanted to move towards her.
“He’s got a point,” Max says quietly. Jenna looks down and begins to rub her upper arm. Her eyes close for a moment, and when they open her arms fall and she begins to speak again.
“What music? Reed you haven’t booked a gig in weeks. The last one you had you barely made enough money to pay--”
“Oh? Yeah? And what do you get paid to do that is so much better than my job?”
“I got a job-- Reed you don’t have a job.”
“You didn’t even take the damn job yet.”

Max opens the fridge, his gaze sorting through it dully. There are an abundance of fruit and vegetables that litter the drawers, tupperware containers filled with chicken and rice, and a whole shelf of bottled waters. In the right side of the door sit an assortment of yogurts, he stares at them for a moment before he moves on. He closes the fridge and leans his head against it, his hand still on the handle.
“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, still listening to the muffled argument in the room nextdoor. “You’re an idiot,” he scolds himself, gently knocking his head on the fridge.
Max stands upright, looking to a cabinet. He stares at it for a moment, rapping his fingers against the granite counter before he reaches for the handle. He opens it and pulls out a bottle of liquor, a clear kind with the label neatly removed. He stares at it for a moment, holding his breath, before releasing it and twisting open the top.

The arguing has ceased. Jenna has emailed the company, telling them that she would gladly take the job. The couple stands by the door but they are not beside each other. Max stands by Jenna while Reed stands with his hand on the door.
“Let’s go,” he says, turning the handle.
“I’m comin’, Reed,”
“Now,” he says, opening the door and staring at her. She stares back, crossing her arms. Her hand rubs against her upper arm and she sucks in a breath, stepping forward. Reed walks out, letting out a loud sigh.
Jenna does not leave right away, but Reed does not wait up. He walks down the sidewalk with long strides, his breathing heavy. Four houses down, he turns up the driveway and unlocks the front door. The house is browner than Max’s, the outside is built almost entirely out of brick. He slams the dark door behind him, sending a handful of paint chips onto the porch. The wreath on the door rocks at the force of the slam, it is made from twigs, pine cones, and wooden pieces painted to look like apples. They match the exterior of the house well, and match even better with the orange trees that litter the yard.

Reed awakes to the sound of a door shutting. He sits up and looks around the room, rubbing his forehead. Jenna has moved to the city, and does not often come home. Reed swallows before letting out a loud yawn.
“Jenna?” He calls into the house, but receives no answer. He stretches where he lays, back popping a number of times as he does so. He lets out a loud groan, sits up, and smiles.
“Are you home?” he calls to the house, “Are you cookin’ breakfast?” he adds, a small smile playing on his lips
“Been awhile since you’ve done that,” he says, his voice quicker and sharper. He then frowns, biting the insides of his cheeks and muttering under his breath.
Silence answers the man, leaving him to pull himself from the bed and move himself to the kitchen. He walks half slumped over, his hand rubbing the top of his neck.
“Yo-- Jenna,” he calls again, peering into the room.
It is empty. The small, mostly brown kitchen is empty and clean. There is no food on the counter, no dishes in the sink, and it smells nothing like freshly flipped pancakes. Reed leans against the doorframe, staring into the room. On the island in the middle of the kitchen lie mostly bills and job applications, which are incomplete and appear completely untouched. There is also a large yellow notepad on the right corner, covered in beautiful cursive handwriting. There is a piece of metal on the bottom of the pad, which is shining in the sunlight coming from the window.
Reed steps in, paying no attention to the clutter. He moves straight for the fridge and opens it, leaning in and drumming his fingers against the outside. It’s almost empty, most of the food inside is slowly dying fruit. Long, bony fingers reach in and grab a heavily bruised apple and a Walmart brand of bottled water. He closes the door and moves back towards the bedroom, but pauses.
He stares at the yellow notepad, his eyes skimming over the words and biting at his lower lip. His eyebrows furrow, and he grabs at the bottom of his white t-shirt with the hand that clutches the apple. He lets out a long, breathy sigh, finally releasing his lip from his teeth and setting down the bottle of water.
He grabs the shining metal from the pad, which is actually a key. The edges resemble saw, each tooth perfectly matching the one before it. The only difference is the last one, which juts out further than the rest.
Reed sets the key back down, shoving the pad to the side and snatching at the bottle of water.
“Whatever,” he mutters, “It’s not like she paid for anything around here anyway.” He exits the room stiffly, clutching his breakfast and flaring his nostrils as he went.