After making our way to Interstate 5 and walking along the side for around seven minutes, a middle-aged trucker stopped by us and asked if we were lost. Instead of lying to him, Malcolm told the truth about what we were doing. I loved him because he never played games with you and was always straight to the point, the complete opposite of me. I have a habit of describing things in a way that makes me look like the good guy; I can be quite chaotic neutral at times. I can turn from an angel into Audrey Horne from Twin Peaks in a split second. I used to think that I was a sociopath when I was younger, but I show too much empathy to be one. Uncle Dante on the hand, though…
“We’re running away from home. Do you think you could give us a ride?” Malcolm nearly begged him. Boy, I felt so lousy.
