Lin P

   It had been three days since Starsky and Hutch had flown back from New York.  There, Starsky had let Hutch follow him through the forlorn paces of burying his mother. They'd wandered together through her quiet house, packing boxes for Starsky, Nicky, or for charities. Hutch stood and looked out a window in the living while Starsky stonily made arrangements with a real estate agent to sell his childhood home. They'd gone back to her grave every night, but the last evening before they left he asked Hutch to stay behind while he said his final goodbyes.

   Their friendship was rejuvenating itself, but there was still a strain that would slide up and stand between them if conversations got too close or personal. The intimacy they'd had seemed gone.

   They were back into the routine of their jobs. Except today wasn't routine at all. After yesterday's heavy downpours that kept even the criminals inside, the bright sun that had risen this morning may as well have been a full moon. Muggers, warring husbands and wives, purse snatchers - everyone was making up for lost time. The band radio in Starsky's car crackled almost incessantly with calls and they'd been backing up street patrol most of the day when another kind of call came in for Zebra Three.

   An apparent drowning in a drainage ditch. A young boy.

   "Oh no. Not my kind of call." Hutch said as he put the microphone back on its stand.

   "No one likes these ones, Hutch." Starsky replied as he swung the car around in the middle of the street. "Maybe they'll call us off before we get there."

   "Who's going to let their kids near one of those ditches today? They've got to be full."

   "It's four thirty, school's just out. Time for all the little ones to wander into trouble."

   Five minutes later they were pulling up behind two rescue trucks when they saw a small entourage of men in orange jackets lifting a backboard over the edge of the concrete embankment. As they got out of the car and approached they got a closer look at the small, soaked body strapped onto it. His face was gray and white and his mouth hung loosely open. He was plainly dead.

   "Jesus," Starsky muttered.

   Hutch immediately averted his eyes and asked the nearest rescue worker, "What happened? Where did he go in?"

   "Only about four blocks from here. He was fooling around with some friends and fell in. We looked here first. There's a wire mesh over a culvert down there," he motioned towards the swift moving water, "we found the last one here a year ago, snagged just like him underwater."

   Starsky spoke up. "How long do you think he was under."

   "According to his friends, it's been quite a while. They ran up and down these banks in a panic before they called for help."

   "You mean those two over there?" Hutch was looking at two boys huddled together by a parked car.

   "Uh huh. That's them."

   "So they know who he is then?"

   "They told us his name is Mark Blake, we haven't had a chance to ask them more yet."

   A bright yellow tarp was being pulled over the backboard and they watched the little face disappear under it.

   The man turned back to the two partners. "We're not supposed to cover them...but he's just a kid. We cover the kids."

   A small crowd on onlookers was gathered across the street, but no one was coming forward to ask questions or to claim a child.

   They walked over and gently probed the two frightened friends of the boy. Mark Blake was an only child. His mother was dead and he lived with his father alone. He was supposed to be on his way to an after-school daycare, but was waylaid by the fascinating rush of the waters in the ditch. The three of them had been playing close to the embankment when he'd simply slipped and tumbled over the side.

   Neither child knew the father's first name or his real address but they could tell him where the daycare was, just a few minutes away.

   "So," Starsky asked as they walked off to the side, "what do we do?"

   "One of us has got to stay here, Starsk, and wait for the morgue guys."

   "Why don't I run over to the daycare and I'll be right back with his phone numbers and address. They've got to have them."

   "Okay, you go. I'll try to find out where these kids live too."

   Fifteen minutes later Starsky returned just as one of the rescue trucks was pulling away. Hutch was keeping vigil with the remaining men by the tarped form on the ground. Starsky took a long look down before he met Hutch's eyes.

   "They're not here yet?"

   "No. It's going to be close to half an hour - at the most, they said. Busy day."

   "Man," Starsky shook his head, "he shouldn't have to lay here like this."

   "I know. But there's nothing we can do about it. Did you find out where his father is?"

   "Yeah, and the husband of the lady who runs the daycare is right behind me to give us another ID."  Worry covered his face.  "I called his office and they said he's on his way home, he takes the bus. Called his home number and he's not there yet."

   "So he'll go home first? Not to the daycare?"

   "Nope. He comes about five thirty, walks the dog over and they go to the park before dinner. A routine...Hutch, we've got to tell him and I don't know what to do. What happens if he walks by here? It's on his way."

   "I wish the damned wagon was here already!"

   "Look, here comes the husband now. If he says for sure it's Mark, I'll go over and wait at his house. You stay here."

   "Starsk, I can do it. You stay and I'll head over..."

   He put up his hand to stop Hutch. "No, I'll go. I'll do it."

   When they lifted the edge of the tarp for the man who knew the little boy, he looked down, then back at them with soft eyes. "It's Mark. Mark Blake."

~~~~~~~~

   Starsky stood and waited steps of the small one story house. This was one part of their jobs that any policeman hated. To deliver the horrible news and then stand there, a stranger, while relatives' lives fell to the ground in front of them. The dread he felt was growing with every minute when he heard someone whistling.

   Walking down the sidewalk a man was carrying a briefcase, whistling a tune to himself. When he saw Starsky standing by his door, he hesitated, then picked up his pace.

   He was probably close to fifty, gray hair at his temples and lines across his face.

   "Can I help you?" He asked, coming up the sidewalk.

   Starsky stepped down to meet him, showing his badge.

   "Um, I'm Detective David Starsky, with the L.A.P.D"

   Bewildered, he put his suitcase down and extended his hand.

   "George Blake, ...how can I help you?"

   "Could we go inside?"

   "I don't have much time, why don't you just tell me what it is you want?" He answered kindly.

   Starsky steeled himself. "Mr. Blake, there's been an accident." He hesitated a moment then went on. "Your son, Paul, he was walking by the drainage ditch over on..."

   "Where is he? Where's Paul?"

   "He...he was too close and he fell in, Mr. Blake. I'm sorry, but he drowned."

   The older man stared at him.

   "There was nothing they could for him."

   Still the eyes fixed on him, emotionless.

   Starsky glanced away from that stare and just as he did hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him roughly.

   "You're wrong! How could you tell me that!"

   Stunned, he was pushed again.

   "How could you tell me that? You bastard!"

   "Mr. Blake, I'm sorry...but it's true." He regained his balance. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't true."

   A hard backhand across his face.

   "Get out of here, you little bastard!

   Starsky stumbled away a few steps, holding his bleeding mouth.

   "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "He's...they're taking him to the City Morgue. Is there someone...."

   Mr. Blake menacingly approached.

   "I told you get out of here! Now!"

   When Starsky looked back again, from his car, he saw George Blake standing with his arms hanging to his sides, gazing into space, rooted like a statue.

   Starsky drove the few short blocks back to the scene by the ditch. A City Morgue wagon was parked beside the rescue truck and two suited men were crouched over the boy's body on the ground, the tarp pulled off him again. He hung back by the side of his car. Hutch walked over, surprise registering on his face as he looked at his partner.

   "Starsky! What happened to you?"

   "Uh," he reached up to wipe more blood from his lips. There was a bright red mark on his cheek. "He didn't take it very good."

   Hutch put a hand up to touch the cheek and Starsky turned his head away. The hand fell back again.

   "He hit you?"

   "I'm alright. This is nothin'...God, he lost it... kicked me out of there. I couldn't do anything for him."

   Hutch peered at him.

   "You sure you're okay?"

   "I'm fine, Hutch," he snapped. "He's the one that ain't doing too good."

   "I wish I'd gone over."

   "What's the difference? You would've come back with a fat lip too." He started towards the group pushing their covered stretcher into the wagon. "Let's go and get this wrapped up. I wanna get out of here."

   It was seven thirty when they were finishing up paperwork back in the squad room. Hutch leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. His partner was scribbling signatures onto a pile of completed forms.

   "Feel like going for a cold brew?"

   "No, I'm pooped. Another time."

   "Sure. Hellish day, huh?"

   Hutch winced as soon as he'd said it. Starsky had had a much more hellish month.

   "Not the best."

   Hutch regarded him. The mark on his face was getting darker and his lip was puffing out on the corner.

   "I wonder how that Mr. Blake is doing."

   "I don't imagine he's going to sleep for a long time." Starsky replied as he tossed a pen into a cup and stood up. "That's it for me. I'll catch you tomorrow, Hutch."

   "Alright. See you later."

   Hutch remained at his desk for a little while longer. They were friends again, talking and working together as partners. But, he thought, I'm as lonely as he is.

~~~~~~~~

   The rest of the week was just as busy and they put in long hours each day. Starsky and Hutch went home every night a little more tired than the last. On Friday they were back at the precinct just before seven p.m., slumped at their desks, looking at the piles of forms and reports to fill out and feeling more unambitious by the moment.

   Captain Dobey watched them from his office. He knew they'd both done some hard work under a lot of strain, it was on their faces. Like other detectives in the squad room, their own caseload had waited as they tried to keep up with the crime wave that had hit the city. But these two had other heavy loads on their shoulders, he saw in in their cheerless movement and conversation.  Any other time he'd ask them to do some extra hours on the weekend. He walked out of his office to their desks.

   "So, have you boys got the city under control?"

   "For the next five minutes or so, Cap." Hutch answered.

   Starsky was numbly looking at his paperwork. "Nothin's under control in here. I don't want to do this."

   "So don't." Dobey surprised them. "I'm going to turn around and count to ten. You both hit the road. When I turn back, if I see either of you still in the room, that means you work on those messes." He motioned to their desktops.

   "What?"

   "Huh?"

   He turned around and a little grin broke out on his face.

   "One...two...three.."

~~~~

   "Well, that was different." Hutch said as they approached their cars.

   "Sure was -I'm not going to argue."

   Hutch was digging out the keys and bending over his car door as Starsky stood behind him, shifting uneasily.

   "Hey, Hutch, you want to go for that beer?"

   Hutch twirled around.

   "Yeah, I'd love one right now. Huggy's?"

   "Meet you there."

   Starsky didn't see the happy expression on his partner's face as he headed for his Torino. Safe to let his guard down again, his own face became dull, almost dismal.

   Huggy watched them sitting in the booth talking and sipping on their beers. They hadn't been in together in a long time. Hutch had wandered in a few times and had told him about Starsky's mother. But there'd been something in his eyes that said there was more.  Well, I hope they're working out whatever's wrong, he mused. I think my own world is a little off kilter when those two aren't slapping each other's shoulders coming through that door a few times a week.

   "What are you thinking about?" Hutch asked at the distant look in his partner's eyes.

   "Whistling."

   "What?"

   "I was just thinking about Mark Blake's dad." Starsky replied, looking back, "He was whistling till he saw me standing there. Wonder how he's doing."

   "It was pretty bad, huh?" He looked at the fading bruise on his partner's face.

   "For him, yeah. But...I don't now. I can't figure out if I got off easy, not seeing that other look they get in their eyes. Sounds selfish, huh?"

   "No, Starsk, I don't think so. It's not easy no matter how they react."

   "I guess." He took a long swallow of his beer.

   "Have you heard from Nicky this week?"

   "Nah. Don't expect to. Until the house sells...then it'll be wine and roses till he's sure the check's on the way."

   Hutch smiled a little at this. It was true, but he couldn't say it out loud. He concentrated on his beer for a moment then raised his eyes back to his partner.

   "Are you feeling better, Starsky?" He asked softly.

   Starsky met his concerned look and inhaled slowly.

   "Hey, where the hell have you two been?" One of the regulars at the bar, a large fellow named Dan who they often joined for drinks, was standing over their table.

   "Eric! Look who's here! Hey, slide over, boys," he said goodheartedly, "and we'll catch up on our bragging and lying. It's been a while."

   Starsky and Hutch glanced quickly at each other as they moved over in their seats to make room for the two newcomers.

   Huggy looked over and saw that there was now a foursome at the table, Eric and Dan doing most of the talking and laughing. Starsky and Hutch were watching them with polite smiles on their faces, joining in on the conversation only occasionally. Oh, not tonight, he thought to himself. Leave them alone tonight.

   It wasn't long before Starsky shifted in seat towards Eric.

   "I'm going to call it a day, guys, I've had it. Good seeing you again."

   Eric stood to let him out and Hutch watched helplessly as his partner flashed him an unreadable look and left.

   "What's with him, Hutch?" Eric asked sitting back down. "He's kind of quiet."

   "Oh.....uh, his mother just recently died."

   He watched the bar door swing closed.

   "Oh, geez, we didn't know that."

   "That's okay. It's been a crazy week at work too. We're both beat."

   He was staring at the door.

   "Hutch," Dan asked beside him, "how about a game of pool? You owe me a rematch, if I remember."

   "Not tonight, Dan. You know, I think I'm going to head out too. I'm starting to fade fast."

~~~~

   As Hutch pushed through the door into the night air he saw the Torino pulling out of the parking lot and onto the street. He headed for his own car and soon was on his way to his partner's apartment.

   Ten minutes later as he pulled over he was surprised to see that the Torino wasn't in its spot. I thought you were coming home, Starsk. Where'd you go? He decided to sit and wait. Maybe his partner had stopped off at a store or something and would come around the corner any time.

   Starsky leaned his head back on the neck rest, eyes half closed. Come on, Hutch. Finish your beer and come home.  He roused himself when he heard a car approach but it passed on by and he sank back again.

   Hutch turned on his dome light and looked at his watch. It had been half an hour. Damn, Starsk. He turned the ignition on, still not knowing what to do. The beach. He goes to the beach sometimes when he's like this. Hutch looked over his shoulder one last time and drove away.

   Starsky pulled into Huggy's parking lot and slowly got out. I feel like an idiot coming back, like a baby. Then he noticed the LTD was gone. When did he leave? God, Hutch, he moaned inside, where are you?

   The streets were almost empty now as Hutch dejectedly drove through them.  As he rounded the corner onto his own street he squinted ahead. The red Torino gleamed under a streetlight's halo.

   He parked quickly and walked up to the front stoop where Starsky sat leaning against the railing. One weary, relieved face looked into the other.

   "Where have you been?"

   "I was looking for you."

    ~~~~~~~~

   Entering the dark apartment Starsky walked over to the couch and slowly sat down while Hutch turned on a light and settled himself into a close by easy-chair. He leaned forward and looked at his partner.

   "We've got to talk for real, Starsk."

   "I know," Starsky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've been wanting to for hours, and now ... I don't know how to start."

   "How about we're both miserable."

   Starsky tried a weak smile, but it fell away. Head down, he said in a hushed tone.

   "Everything's turned around, Hutch."

   "I know...things aren't right. That's why we're here now, okay?"

   Starsky nodded but said nothing more.

   "You've had a bad time of it lately, partner. But things get better."

   He got no response.

   "You know that, don't you?"

   Starsky looked up and studied Hutch's expectant face. He wanted to erase that look, lie and say that he did think things would be alright. But it was too difficult anymore to try and live up to any lie.

   He stood up and went to the window, looking out at the night sky.

   "I'm tired." He quietly said.

   Hutch watched and waited in stillness from his chair.

   "When I was in New York with my mother, watching everything that happened to her, watching her go down...after a while things started to go black...." He faltered..."I...uh..."

   He stopped again and kept his gaze out the window, looking as if he wished he could escape through it.

   "Starsky..." Hutch whispered, "tell me."

   The lull continued till Hutch saw him straighten a little.

   "I started feeling like I wanted to die too." He lightly shrugged."...on good days I did feel dead inside."

   Hutch shuddered. I did this to you too, didn't I? he thought.

   "But then you came out, you were there and walked me through everything." He finally turned back to look at Hutch. "I never thanked you for that."

   "Buddy...Starsk, you never had to."

   Their eyes held for a long time, then Hutch watched a cloud of despair drop quickly over Starsky's face.

   "I forgot to thank you, Hutch." He choked out.

   Hutch rose and quickly crossed the room. He put his hands on Starsky's shoulders and peered closely at the tormented face, the deep blue eyes bright with tears.

   "Starsky, that doesn't matter..."

   "Yeah, it does!" He cried back." I'm sorry, Hutch. That's what's wrong with me. I'm in this...pit."

   "I know you're depressed."

   Starsky squeezed his eyes shut and the tears spilled out and down his face.

   "I don't wanna feel like this anymore. I don't know what to do."

   "I'm right here, partner." Hutch urged.

   Starsky strained his anguished eyes away.

   "Do you think you're alone, Starsky?"

   "Look at me." Hutch gave the shoulders a gentle shake and when their eyes met he spoke in a low and steady voice. "When you're hurting like this...I am too. When you're scared of something, I'm shaking right beside you. And when you're happy, Starsk, I'm happier."

   Starsky was fixed tearfully on every word.

   "That's the way we are. Except I found out I can be a real nasty piece of work...and that's not in you, partner. You know, when I screwed up with us a while ago, I wasn't thinking straight at all, and I blew myself out of the water too. I got real down about what I did...I'm picking myself up, Starsk, but without you by me I'll never be the same person...I'll never be whole again."

   Hutch paused, checking the emotion that had crept into his voice

   "You've got to let me help you get through this. See? You need me like I need you." Then his voice did break. "Don't you know that by now, Starsky?"

   Starsky sank under these words and he reached towards his partner. Hutch wrapped his arms around him and he began to softly cry on his shoulder, but the loneliness that was working its way out was vengeful and soon his body was heaving, his loud sobs filling the room.

   "It's okay." Hutch's tears ran into the dark curls that he pressed his face against.  "It's okay," was all he murmured over and over again, holding Starsky tight, squeezing him tighter as the pain pushed through into his own heart on its journey.

   They stood under the window a long time like that, giving and taking without a word what they needed from each other, until Starsk's grief was almost spent. Then he still clung to Hutch fiercely.

   Eventually his breathing became deeper and Hutch felt the tension drain away. Starsky eased himself back from Hutch's embrace but they remained close, heads resting heavily against each other, hands on shoulders.

   "Don't ever leave me, Hutch. I wouldn't make it."

   "I won't, partner. I'll always be here." After a moment he added." Whatever happens, no matter what, you always remember that I love you, Starsky."

   Starsky raised his head and feebly tried to smile through his drying eyes.

   "I love you too, Blondie...loved you before I met you."

   "Always, okay?" Hutch smiled back.

   "Forever."

~~~~~~~~

   It was almost two weeks since Starsky and Hutch had spent half an evening looking for each other and meeting on Hutch's doorstep.  They'd put in a lot of extra hours catching up on their caseload, and now the days on the job were, for the most part, back to normal. It was late in the morning and they were at their desks doing yet more necessary paperwork.  Hutch was looking out of the corner of his eye at his partner as Starsky read a finished report. He'd been staring at it for quite some time now.

   "Hey, Starsk. Don't understand your own prose or what?"

   "Huh? Oh no...." He pushed his chair back and stood. "I guess it's as good as it gets. I'll go slap it on Dobey's desk while it's safe."

   Hutch watched him return from the empty office and sit back down, pulling another blank form from an pile.

   "Quit looking at me, Hutch. You're makin' me nervous."

   Hutch grimaced and turned back to his own paperwork.

   "Okay...hey, what are we doing for lunch? I want to try that new deli on Fort Street. I think even you might like it. There's a special heathen section on the menu."

   "Sure. Just gotta put in one more of these and we can vamoose."

   They were both engrossed at their desks when a man appeared and stood in the squad room doorway, scanning the room. His eyes settled on Starsky and he crossed over to the unseeing detective.

   "Detective Starsky?"

   Both heads looked up.

   "Mr. Blake!" Starsky rose and they shook hands.

   "I hope I'm not bothering you." He was nervously spinning a hat in his hands

   "No, you're not...This is my partner, Ken Hutchinson. Hutch, this is George Blake."

   Hutch reached out as he stood up and took the hand extended to him.

   "Nice to meet you, sir...I'm very sorry about your son."

   "Thank you." He hesitated then enquired to Starsky. "Can we talk somewhere? It won't take long, I promise."

   "Sure." Starsky spun his head around to see if the coffee room was empty. "Come on in here. No one will bother us. Hutch?"

   "I'll watch the door."

~~~~

   And Hutch did sit staring the closed door, wondering what was being said behind it and worrying once again about his partner. For the most part, Starsky seemed to be over his depression. There had been periods in the last few weeks when Hutch saw the melancholy settle on him and he would seem to fade for a little while. When the house in New York sold quickly Starsky took the news stoically and was untalkative the rest of the day. But that night at his apartment Hutch sat on the couch and grinned as he listened to his partner yell over the phone to Nicky about the costs of real estate commissions and taxes. He hung up exasperated but enlivened again. His setbacks were all but gone now - and if he still seemed a little too lost in his thoughts at times Hutch's voice was all it took to bring him gratefully back to the present.

   Hutch wished he could be in the room with his partner.

~~~~

   "Do you want a coffee, Mr. Blake?" Starsky offered, holding the coffee pot.

   "No, thank you. I really won't be that long, Detective."

   "Okay." Starsky put the pot back on the burner and took a chair across the table from where the older man sat. He waited for him to start.

   George Baker stared at his hands on the table a moment before he spoke.

   "I've been looking for you. It wasn't easy. I'm sure you gave me your name...that day, but I couldn't remember it. They wouldn't tell me your name when I asked at your Headquarters downtown."

   "No, they don't give out policemen's names if any of the public asks for them. It's for our own safety." Starsky stopped himself. If Mr. Blake noticed his poor choice of words he didn't show it.

   "So," Mr. Blake continued, "I've been going to various precincts looking for you. And now, here you are."

   "I'm glad you found me." Starsky replied sincerely.

   Mr. Baker regarded him with kind but sad eyes.

   "Detective Starsky, I've come to apologize to you. What I did that day..."

   "You don't owe me any apologies, nothing at all."

   "But I do. I've never done anything like that before in my life." He paused, eyes downcast. "Losing my son...so suddenly...I didn't...I couldn't believe you."

   He looked up again and met Starsky's attentive face.

   "I reacted horribly, and it wasn't till a few days after the funeral that it struck me what I'd done."

   "Mr. Blake, you reacted like I probably would under those circumstances. No one could blame you for what you did."

   "That's very kind of you." He smiled gently. "But you were only doing your job, and not a pleasant part of it. I wanted you to know that I do regret the difficulty I put you in.  Please...accept my apologies, Detective."

   He stood up and reached his arm across the table. Starsky rose and clasped the hand in a long shake.

   "I do, Mr. Blake. And thank you very much for coming to see me. I..I hope you're coping..." He was at a loss to find the right words.

   "I'm back to work. I have to keep busy. I've decided to sell the house. Mark's gone...and it's hard to live there now."

   He smiled at the silent detective. "I'll find my way out. Thank you again for seeing me."

   "Mr. Blake..?" He turned back at the doorway. "Take care. Take good care of yourself."

   "I will." And he was gone.

~~~~

   Starsky had sat back down and was staring ahead when Hutch entered the room soon after.

   "Starsk? How did it go

   Starsky slowly turned his face towards him. He sighed. "It was okay. He wanted to apologize for comin' at me that day at his house."

   "Poor guy, huh?" Hutch took the chair Mr. Blake had just occupied.

   "Yeah...you know, he's a real nice guy too, a real gentleman."

   "I could see that."

   Starsky frowned as he organized his thoughts.

   "It seemed real important to him that he see me, and say what he did."

   "Are you okay, Starsk? You're alright with this?"

   "Don't worry," he responded with a slight smile. "I'm fine. I think it helped Mr. Blake to find me, in some little way. I'm real glad he did."

   Hutch regarded his partner with fondness.

   "Come on," Starsky said cheerfully as he rose and headed for the door. "Let's finish up and get to that deli. And if you don't quit staring at me, I swear, Hutch, you're going to be sitting at a different table."

~~~~~~~~

   It was well past midnight. They were both sitting on the floor in Hutch's apartment, Hutch leaning against the couch with his guitar in his lap, and Starsky slumping against the matching chair. Empty beer bottles were haphazardly lined up on the coffee table. Long since fed up with making trips to the refrigerator they'd put the case of remaining beer on the carpet close by.

   "Okay," Hutch took another sip and put the bottle down beside him. "I'm John," he instructed, "you're Paul."

   "You're John again? You're always John." Starsky complained, his speech slurred.

   "I'm taller. I have the guitar. It only makes sense, Starsky."

   "Well...fine. It's Paul the girls love anyway."

   "There you go. Okay...now...and don't BURP in middle of this one!"

   With that they both went into another hysterical fit of laughter. Starsky fell sideways onto the floor making choppy high-pitched sounds while Hutch slid over too, almost choking on his funny little gasps. It was a full five minutes before they were sitting up again, wiping their eyes and taking deep, composing breaths.

   Finally settled down again, Hutch picked up his guitar.

   "Come on, I hear the girls screaming. Ready?"

   "No, hold on." Starsky took a quick swallow out of his bottle. "Okay... hit it, John."

   Hutch placed his fingers on the strings of the guitar then looked back up at his partner. Eyebrows raised, mouths slightly open, they waited through the first few chords to start in unison....

Two of us riding nowhere, spending someone's
hard earned pay
You and me Sunday driving,
not arriving on our way back home
We're on our way home,
we're on our way home,
we're going ho-o-o-ome

THE END