“okay, okay.” you’re soothing him through a payphone, his babbling incoherent. something about ole munch, his father, his eyes. you ask him where he is. “i don’t know! how would i know? i can’t…” he trails off. “hold on.” he says, and the line goes quiet for a moment, but you can hear him talking to someone in the background. then he’s able to give you the street name of the gas station. “just… hurry. please?”