My name is Esther, I am 19. Dash is 17. He is my day and night and he has no idea how I feel. We are two homeless kids in suburbia. I'm sure that in a hundred years our lives will seem strange, important, and futuristic but today I am only cold and hungry and I miss Dash.
Through the mist at the corner of Robb and Lora I spy a white utility shed adorned with a bold, beautiful, black Circle-A. I say a prayer to nobody and wait. Neighbors watch from every window. My blouse is spray-painted bright orange, my Levi's are tight and black, my motorcycle boots only heighten my mystery. After a minute of this fashion show, I spin around once and head three blocks over to Zig Zag. Church bells ring on and on so I sit on the sidewalk and smoke.
Soon I hear Dash yelling my name, I stand, I see him running toward me. I put my arms around him. He's crying and pretends he's not crying. The rain comes down colder and faster. We don't mind. We start out on the long, cold walk to the city. It seems like it's a thousand miles away. Singing helps. I sing "Borderline" by Madonna first. We luck out and get a ride from a punk rocker: leather jacket, spiky hair and all. He drops us off at a run-down hotel. Dash and I share a room for a week. We don't even kiss once. Too sad.
Later, Dash was elected President of the United States. We both found that fact hilarious.