purely theoretically...

It shouldn't have suprised her, it didn't really. He'd always said that he was a drifter. She said she was a troubadour. Since she was his "lover," "maybe soulmate," she'd figured that meant they could wander together, at least for a little while. He called at one o'clock on her day off. He knew it was her day off. Ten seconds: "Hello?" "Hey beautiful, gotta go. Love you. Bye." "Bye." At the time it seemed like just one of his odd, sweet, random phone calls, like the times he'd called just to say 'good morning' when she was working the early bird shift, or to remind her to tell her dad 'Happy Father's Day' from him. In retrospect however it was bigger. The thought didn't even occur to her for a day or two when she hadn't seen him online since the night before he called. Sometimes they missed nights when stuff came up or either of them fell asleep. By the third night she was considering being worried, even though their last online conversation had left her sated and worry-free. A week later she guessed he had either died on the streets or had finally gotten out of the dead-end town; hoped for the latter.