“Okay, tell you what – I have a game we can play. It’s called Don’t Get Me Started – my sister and I play this all the time in the car. One of us names something – literally anything, like butterflies or avocadoes or whatever – and the other one has to go on an angry rant about it for as long as they can,” Mitta said.

“Okay?”

“It’s fun, I promise. I’ll go first so you can see how it works – give me a topic.”

“Uh, avocadoes, I guess.”

“Okay.” She paused and took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself for a performance. “Avocadoes are so green. Like what is that? And it’s a fruit. Fruit is not supposed to be green unless it’s like rotten or something, but no – a perfectly good avocado is just straight up green. And they’re so squishy! You can literally just mash it with a fork and it’s like- like- clay that you’ve put too much water in. Fruit should not do that! And then there’s this giant rock in the middle that you can’t eat and takes up a bunch of space and has no reason to ever exist, but there it is! Just taking up room! Like a stupid little golf ball in the middle of a... ball of clay… which is totally something that happens but whatever. It’s just not okay!” I was laughing hysterically by that point – never in my life had I seen a person harbor so much anger toward avocadoes. “See?” She asked, her voice completely back to normal. “I actually love avocadoes. I mean, they are kind of gross looking, but they’re good on toast. Anyway, you get the point, right?”

I nodded, still laughing. “Don’t think I could do it, but I understand alright.”

“Sure you can. Let’s see… Airline food! Everyone hates airline food. Go.” Oh good Lord. Airline food? What was I supposed to know about that?

“Umm, airline food is, uh… gross. Yup. It’s… expensive, I think, and that… takes advantage of people on the plane, because that’s their only option, and it’s… yeah, money.” Mitta was completely silent, staring at me. I didn’t want to look away from the quickly dimming road long enough to find out what her expression was. “Also, umm… it’s… cold, sometimes. When it’s not supposed to be. And that, uh, that’s not good.” I couldn’t keep rambling – even I knew how painful it was to listen to.

Mitta burst out laughing. “Oh my God,” she said, shaking her head. “We’ll work on it, girl.”

“I haven’t been on an airplane since I was seven, so I don’t-”

“Hey!” she cut me off. “No pasts, remember?” I nodded.

“Where’s the line, though? We were talking about pets for a good half hour, but that’s part of our pasts, isn’t it?” I didn’t want to change the rule, I just needed to know what exactly counted as our “past.”

She thought for a second. “No stories, and nothing bad. Like, ‘I’ve been to California’ is fine, but not ‘I went to California when I was ten and that’s when my parents told me they were getting a divorce,’ ya know? Or like, ‘I dated a guy who… I don’t know, loved pickles,’ but not ‘I gave him my virginity and then he left me for my best friend.’ Cool?” Did Isaac like pickles? I wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

“Beautiful. So, wanna try again? The game?”

“Actually, it’s getting kind of late. Do you mind if we stop driving for the night? I just saw a sign for an exit coming up.” And I was starving and exhausted because I hadn’t slept for about 36 hours.

“Sure.” I took the exit, and soon we were entering what couldn’t even be called a town – it was just a little cluster of gas stations, fast food chains, and a dollar store.

“Um, are you hungry?” I asked, praying the answer was yes.

“Yeah, let’s go to the dollar store over there and stock up on some road food.” I had really been eyeing the fried chicken place on the left, but it was her money, so I kept driving toward the dollar store.