Shreveport

He was eighteen, she was nineteen. They were in North Carolina,
searching for something. He'd known when he left home he'd find
something there, and she wanted to come along, "to help him look," she
said. She was from Louisiana, Shreveport to be exact. He was from
Tacoma, and they both loved each other. The first time he heard her
talk he was in love. He was shy but had one of those feelings that he
could really miss on something if he didn't talk to her. Her accent
hypnotized him. She went with him, to help him search, she said. He
never said what he was searching for, but that's what made her love him
so. Guys in Shreveport didn't go on searches very often. He made her
think about so many things, but always intrigued her, making her want
more. He was mysterious, she had to solve him. He gave her litle hints
and clues here and there, but only enough for her to refuse to give up.
No one had ever come as close as her. She brought him out, made him
feel alive.
They'd made it to North Carolina from Shreveport in a couple days. The
drive went fast, at least for him, he'd never talked so much in his
whole life. He was usually guarded, but when a person truly listened,
he would talk to them. But as much as he talked she still wanted to
hear more. About him. About his search. Why was an eighteen year old
kid from Tacoma driving through Shreveport, Louisiana in the first
place? He tried explaining, she understood more than most, but it was a
lot harder for him to explain than it may seem. How could he explain
something to her that he couldn't explain to himself? But he tried as
hard as he could, and so did she in understanding. They got to
Asheville on one of those warm summer nights where the peaceful late
evening seemed to last hour after hour. They camped that night, sitting
outside talking. The only thing that night that kept them from thinking
they were immortal beings on some fantastic world was the swarm of
mosquitos that never relented. He would say things like, "those
mosquitos are what get me excited, no elated, about life. There buzzing
and biting and all that good stuff." And she would laugh at him and he
would try to say more wise, poetic things to her. That night they lay
under the stars, she was about to cry because the mosquitos were so
bad, but he said they couldn't sleep inside on a night like this. She
accepted this answer, and lay by his side. They said notihng, made no
small talk, she asked no pestering questions about why he did what he
did and what he was searching for. She knew she didn't have to.