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They meet your eyes with a smile. Then, after a moment, they say:

"A few days ago, I wouldn't have known who to ask to come with me. Then I almost ran you over with my bike, and the rest is history."

"To be fair, I could have heard that bike coming a mile away," you reply. Marlowe laughs even more.

"Well, yeah, that's true. Oh, but I've got my own bike fixed now, so I don't need my roommate's old one anymore. Not that I would've used it again after the other day. Probably a good thing—I think it's older than me."

They laugh again, before falling silent. For a moment, they just look like they're thinking.

"Most of the friends that I had have left town now," they say after a moment. "They either started college or they're working in the city. I go and visit sometimes, but it's not really the same. And, obviously, I've thought that—if I really wanted to make it as a journalist, I'll probably have to leave as well. Part of me has actually always wanted to leave. But…I don't feel like I can. Not yet, anyway."

They give a short sigh—but they smile at the same time, to let you know they're okay. Still, you have to wonder if there is something weighing on their mind that they aren't telling you about.