“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know who to call. I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I can drive, but I can’t stay here. I need to get the hell out.” Each word comes out faster than the last until it sounds like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.
My chest constricts, a lump in my throat forming that’s impossible to swallow, but I try anyway. When that doesn’t work, I look to the sky, and a single tear drips from my eye.