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Summary
“You’re not from around here,” Charlie states, then takes a long drag from the joint between his fingers. The only sounds the stream bubbling in front of them accompanied by the myriad of buzzing night insects. Mac hums in affirmation.
“Been hitchhiking and shit. Or walking. Not even sure how I got here to be honest.”
They sit quietly, simply sharing weed, “So, uhh” Charlie breaks the silence as he fidgets. “You got anywhere to sleep tonight, bro?” He questions, eyes darting from Mac to his own hands.
“No” Mac mumbles truthfully.
“Don’t have money for a motel or anything. I was just planning-” he cuts himself off with a sigh “I don’t know what I was planning.”
Charlie speaks up, voice chipper but slurred, “you’d have to sleep on my couch, but you could totally crash at my place tonight.”