Her name was Tulip. We met her on the road to nowhere. At least, that's what the writer said it was and she didn't disagree. She said that it would have to have been the road to nowhere, since she was being chased by nobody.
I asked if that meant she wasn't being chased, but she said no. "I'm being chased by...myself. But it's not me. I mean, it looks like me and acts like me and everyone I knew thought it was me, even my own mother and father, but..." She stopped, as if she had said something that she hadn't wanted to, something that just slipped out. Her hair was a dark auburn, wavy at the ends, and her eyes were brown and she looked lovely. "When I had had enough, I finally confronted it. I asked what it was. It said it was nobody, like me. And I told it that I wasn't nobody." She turned away from me. "And it said, 'We'll see.'"
She didn't say much after that. The writer was busy scribbling things down in his notebook, which he had kept secret from me since the night at the motel.
Suddenly, he looked up. "Do you have a car?" he asked Tulip. "I think we're going to need a car."
And just like that, we were three.
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