“I really am feeling better,” Jerry said as he recovered from a hacking bout of coughing. He smiled a bit when Roy instantly handed him the bottle of cough syrup. After he took a gulp he screwed the cap back on and stuffed it into his backpack.
“I know you are, and you look better too, not so pale.” Roy looked out over the city from their perch on a park bench several miles from where they’d spent the night. He cupped his hands behind his head to lean back and savor the warmth of the sun on his face. “How about we move to, oh Florida or Arizona so we don’t have to try to survive the winter here.”
“I wish.” Jerry chewed his lip. “It would mean a lot of hitchhiking and if we got picked up by the cops…”
“You worry too much,” Roy said, smiling at him.
“Says the one who forced me to go to the clinic.”
“Speaking of which, we’re due to go back there today.”
Jerry shook his head hard. “I’m better and we’d be taking a chance if we did. Who knows who might have seen us there the last time and maybe told Daws.”
“Roy…” Jerry mimicked. “Honestly, let’s not take the chance. Please.”
Roy sighed. “On one condition, if I think you’re relapsing then we go and to hell with Daws.”
“Deal.” Jerry slid off the bench to lie on the grass, staring up at the sky. “Phoenix maybe?”
“Maybe, or Tucson.”
“Or California somewhere?”
“No. Too many people, too many homeless like us.”
They continued discussing the options, both of them knowing it was a dream which would never come true.