[ WP ] A voice in the sky will tell you when you 've left a place for the last time . You tell your SO goodbye and head out to [ location of your choice ] . Halfway there you hear `` You have visited a location for the last time . ''

Laughter. Goodbyes. Hugs for everyone: Marek, the sweet one. Paul, the well-adjusted one. Amir, Josh, David... but not Jake. Anything but a handshake he'd find weird. Promises for next year. Get coat off coat rack. Turn around and smile one more time. Be a man and get out already, before it gets awkward. Close the door. 
 
 
 ____________________ 
 
 
 
 Steven hummed as he drove his battered second-hand car through the drizzle. The street lamps gave off a scattered orange light, and some eighties oldie was playing against a backdrop of faint static. 
 
 
 
 Why did these rides have to be so god damn melancholic. 
 
 
 
 As he waited in front of a red light, fingers drumming on the wheel to the groove of cheesy drum synths, a thought arose in him. 
 
 
 
 It was simply: *Bummer. * 
 
 
 
 `` That's right. You're never going to that place again.'' No, fuck! It was like someone had put an ice cube inside his chest. `` Never.'' The voice came loud and clear, emerging from a point above his head. 
 
 
 
 He stopped the car at the first opportunity. 
 
 
 
 This had happened before, but at the most harmless of times. Tourist attractions he had visited. Last day of elementary school, thank Christ. Also, the last day of that boring summer job at City archives. He'd never set foot again at any of those places. 
 
 
 
 His grandmother's house when he was 14. Whatever, he did n't even *want* to see her again after all the drama. She'd treated Dad unfairly, always favoring uncle Johnny over him... the pompous shithead. And as he got older, it got more apparent how oddly cold she always acted towards his mom, as if she was n't good enough to be there. Oh, she'd always been nice enough to *him*, her grandson... but he'd made peace with the possibility of her dying before they ever met again. In fact, it sometimes worried him how little that prospect worried him. 
 
 
 
 It had also happened at a couple of old friends' houses. And one ex-girlfriend's house... well, the house of his only girlfriend to date, if we are to be precise. It had been a little heartbreaking, of course, not to mention intense and weird and painful, but it did n't come as a surprise. In a way, it was reassuring, knowing that that was the end of it, the end of him and Becky fuckin' Schweizer. He'd always felt about it that way. Once he got his message, moving on was the easiest thing. 
 
 
 
 Not this time, though. This came as a complete surprise. 
 
 
 
 Fuck this shit. 
 
 
 ______________________ 
 
 
 He drove back to Marek Dubois's place - the place he'd stayed at every summer since his 15th birthday, when Steven moved to Portugal. Good lad, Marek. He still lived with his folks, but in Steven's eyes, you'd have to be a fool to move out of there. Marek's sister had only moved out the year before, but when she came over this year she spent the whole evening chatting everyone's ears off about how much she missed `` home''. 
 
 
 
 There was just something classic and warm about the Dubois family. Hence why their house had pretty much been the headquarters of their friend group since secondary school. As long as their schedules allowed it, the guys would get together on the weekends to form great new memories. And three weeks a year, Steven got to be part of it. 
 
 
 
 That was pretty much the only thing he had left in his life, now at 24. The rest was loneliness and self-loathing. 
 
 
 
 Again: fuck this shit. 
 
 ____________________________________________ 
 
 As he drove into the nice suburban lane, the logical part of his brain was having a heated discussion with the rest. `` You're imagining it, as always. *You're never going to that place again? * Laughable. Of course it has always come true. It's a fucking self-fulfilling prophecy, you prick.'' 
 
 
 
 Still, he felt the phrase lingering in the back of his head, until it suddenly appeared loud and clear from above again. `` You're never going there again.'' His temple burned with a pulsating rhythm. Could it be schizophrenia? Maybe he had a genetic disposition for it - his mother had had two isolated psychotic episodes - but no. This was too specific... too *weirdly* fucking specific. He was too aware of how insane it was. He made a mental note to visit a doctor to get checked for epilepsy or something. 
 
 
 
 For some reason, he laughed. *Fuck, maybe this is also part of the epilepsy, * he thought, and he laughed even harder as he looked at Marek's house from a distance. The lights were still on - these get-togethers could go on pretty long. Suddenly, everything seemed so clear. So self-evident. A metaphorical warm blanket had wrapped itself around him, and he knew. 
 
 
 
 He could do anything he wanted. What would happen if he went back inside? Would God's invisible hand come out of the sky to stop him from entering? He chuckled again, basking in this new-found sense of relief. He could get so worked up about stupid stuff like this. Another mental note was made: see a therapist, work through some issues. But first, go back inside. Claim your free will. 
 
 
 
 As he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt, still chuckling to himself, he was startled by bright light. 
 
 
 
 He froze. 
 
 
 
 There it was. A car, facing him. Motor running, headlights blinding his eyes. 
 
 
 
 It stood there for what seemed like an hour. After a period of stunned silence, suddenly various threads of jumbled thought exploded in his mind. *What's that fucking car doing there? * He tried to make out faces, but all he saw was a silhouette and a shitload of light. He did n't even dare to look at the figure for more than a couple of seconds. His heart was racing. *Relax, you're getting worked up over nothing, as always*. But then, that voice again, from above. 
 
 
 
 
 `` You're never going there again.'' 
 
 
 
 This was madness. Was he going to let this stupid coincidence get in the way of rational thought? Of reassuring himself? Of seeing his friends one more time, before... 
 
 
 
 He saw himself dying a variety of deaths at the hands of the shadowy figure. Shot. Run over. Stabbed and mugged. *It's nothing like that, for fuck's sake. Hell, maybe Paul's girlfriend has a new car and she's come to pick him up? So many good explanations. What the fuck's the matter with you? * 
 
 
 
 That was it. Almost robotically, he unbuckled his seatbelt, removed the keys and got out of his shitty, but eternally trusty vehicle. This was not a slasher movie - he was in a familiar place. He gently breathed in and out as he locked his car. He put one foot in front of the other, making his way to the mysterious car facing him. 
 
 
 He peered through the window, all smiles in preparation of the Great Defusing of Tension. 
 
 
 He was confronted with the face of a girl. Mouth agape, hazel eyes. She ’ d dyed her hair. She also seemed to have lost a bit of weight in the face. 
 
 
 “ Becky? ” 
 
 
 He heard a door shut in the distance and looked behind him. It was his friend Paul, and he was walking towards them. Then he looked back at Becky, his ex-girlfriend, and it dawned on him: not only had Paul ’ s girlfriend acquired a new car. Paul had acquired a new girlfriend, and he had n't mentioned it to him... for obvious reasons. 
 
 
 Becky stared at him for a few seconds longer, her eyes darting from him to Paul. Then: 
 
 
 “ Get in. ” 
 
 
 “ … what? ” 
 
 
 “ Get in the car, stupid. I ’ ve waited ten years for this. ” 
 
 
 Steven didn ’ t really think about it. There was no invisible hand from God stopping him, after all. He got in the car. 
 
 
 
 Becky had always had a certain reckless streak to her. In fact, Steve had always suspected she was crazy. 
 
 
 But apparently, so was he. Maybe being reckless was worth a shot. 
 
 
 He could do anything he wanted. 
 
 
 He was never going to see Paul and the gang again anyway.
