Whitney’s face flushed as she read the message, but today was not a dancing day for Whitney. It was a stressful and depressing day, and the day wasn’t going to be over until she found her truck. 
    Whitney typed out a new message. “Do you know anyone here named Dillon?” The woman shook her head no in the phone light. So Whitney typed out, “I have to go. Can I have your number?”
    “No, dance with me now.” 
    “I have to go.” 
    “Bye.” 
    Rejected, Whitney left and took her phone with her. If nothing else, the conversation had reminded her that her phone was full of light. She kept the notes app opened and the screen pointing up as she walked through the crowd. To any ghosts watching from the rafters, she would have been a single illuminated face in a dark sea of flesh. Before she could find Dillon, someone grabbed her phone and led her by the elbow out of the Gym. 
    It was Dillon. 
    “What the hell are you doing here?” Dillon whispered. 
    Whitney was not concerned with secrecy. She shouted, “I’m looking for you! Where the fuck is my truck?”
    “It’s at my apartment.” 
    “No it’s not. I already went there.” 
    “Well that’s where I left it.”
    “So you lost my truck?”
    “Or you don’t know how to look for it?”
    “So it’s my fault?” 
    Dillon shook their head and took a step back. “Let’s not fight.”
    “Just tell me where my truck is!”
    “Let’s dance.”
    “No, where is my truck?”
    Dillon took Whitney’s hands. “It’s at my apartment. Come dance with me. You can take it home with you tomorrow morning.” 
    “No!”
    “Come on, everybody’s sleeping with their exes all the time. It’s like baseball.” 
    “What do you mean, ‘it’s like baseball?’”
    “I mean it’s a pastime. Everybody’s doing it.” 
    “What?”
    “I don’t know! I’m stone. I’m stoned. Stoneded…Let’s go back to my place.” 
    “How many times do I have to tell you…” As Whitney prepared to truly go off, Dillon started digging through their pockets. They pulled out Whitney’s keys.
    “Here, are you happy? Your car keys! Let’s dance.” Whitney walked away without a word. 
    She was grateful to find she was still able to rent a ride home. By the time she was back in Omaha, it was dark and she was tired. It seemed smart to resume the hunt in the morning. 
    Whitney was woken up by her phone. It was a call telling her that her truck had been towed and providing the address where she could pick it up. She hoped that she would be able to guilt some friends who had vouched for Dillon to cover the cost of the impound fee, but was excited either way. The search was over. She knew where her truck was. And she knew who her friends weren’t. 
    And she never listened to those people again. 

The End