The Meaning Of

During a discussion about the meaning of life with my friend, we somehow began writing this story. I would write an installment, and then she would, completely making it up as we went. This is the result. Basically, for 70 some years, my friend searches for the grand question and answer to the meaning of life. Finally, after all that time, we come in contact again.

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19. XIX

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When I arrived at Jade's apartment, I greeted her husband, Tyler, and each of her cats. Then Jade and I grabbed a couple glasses of lemonade and headed out onto her balcony. Jade rolls up her sleeves in the heat, exposing her tattooed arms. "Alright, so what's wrong?" She asked me. "Nothing?" I said. "Uh huh. Sure." She knew I was lying. We had been friends for so many years that she probably knew me better than anyone still alive. "I'd rather not talk about it," I said. "Uh huh. Sure." She knew that when something bothered me, it would continue to bother me until I talked about it. I'd always had a problem with ranting. Jade pulled a flask out of her pocket. She poured some of the contents into her lemonade, then offered me the flask. I hesitated before taking it and dumping the rest of the liquid into my cup. I took a long chug. I briefly considered ignoring my nagging thoughts, but then I couldn't stop the words that tumbled out of my mouth. I told her everything. 

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