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Chapter 18

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Fred was shaking his head. Zen was talking nonstop. Even when they were brushing their teeth, he was babbling.

“Don’t you ever dream about being free?” Zen stretched his arms and tilted his face to the summer night sky.

Fred watched him with a melancholy smile, breathed in the sweet scent of a nearby honeysuckle, and sighed. He did want to be free, free to walk into a room, and not worry about what people would say or think, but he doubted it was the kind of free Zen was talking about.

“How do you mean?”

“To have everything in place.”

Have everything in place? Fred liked putting things into the right place, you didn’t turn your living room into a jigsaw museum if you didn’t, but he suspected he was missing the point. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Zen dropped his arms and looked at him. It was too dark to make out his expression, but it didn’t stop Fred from fidgeting.

“I like you.”