Before he drove the two hours north to see her, he stopped at a gas station to fill up.

Halfway there, the tire blew. He changed the flat.

“What took you so long?” she asked him in the doorway.

“Show me the flat,” she said. “Show me the flat and I’ll believe you.”

Inside, she poured two glasses of gin. “Tell me about them.”

“Who?” he asked as he tasted the gin.

“The Swedish girls who stayed with you.”

“Swiss.”

“Sure. Fine. What’s the difference?”

“Lots of things.”

“OK, but the main things?”

“Too many to count. What’s it matter?”

“It matters tons. Tons,” she said and began to cut limes into tiny wedges. “Did you go out with them?”

“We went to Jay’s on 12th one night. Do you remember Jay’s?”

“Sure I do. I remember Jay’s. I’ve only been gone a few months, John. Geez, of course I remember Jay’s. Say, do you know if Danny still drinks there? I miss Danny.”

“I didn’t see him that night.”

She placed the cutting board on the countertop in front of him.

“I know it isn’t the best gin. But it’ll do. We can make do,” she said.

“Sure. We’ll make it work,” he said. He picked up a lime.

“We can try. At the very least we can try.” She took a drink. “So, what’d you think of these girls?”

“What?”

“You can tell me, John. Tell me. Were any of these girls cute?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you know. You won’t say, but you know,” she took another drink. “I’ll go first, then. I think Danny’s cute.”

“I know that. Everyone knows that.”

“Tell me about these girls, John. Were they homeless? Why were they staying with you?”

“They were couch-surfing. I told you that. They all had boyfriends. You want to talk long distance, that’s long distance.”

“I guess. But you know, distance isn’t about the miles. Not the real miles, anyway.” She refilled her glass. “When do you have to go back? When’s your next shift?”

“Sunday,” he said.

She nodded.

“Come to bed.” She shifted down the hallway. “I’ll make you forget all those girls and the miles. Come to bed soon,” she said.

He poured another drink and squeezed in what was left of the limes. In the dark, he heard traffic traveling down distant highways. He waited for it. He waited in the dark. He sat and waited in the dark kitchen of her apartment, which wasn’t so dark he couldn’t make out the shape of things.

-Mason Schoen is a creative writing graduate student