There was a loud knocking on the door. Kelly Olynyk looked up from his nearly-completed work, which he had hoped would be completed without intrusion. The knocker didn’t wait for an answer, and let himself in.
“Hey Kelly, I was just wondering if you wanted to… what are you doing?” Phil Pressey asked this question though the answer was plain.
Phil looked slightly put out. “Packing? For what? I was thinking we was gonna stay in town this offseason. I hear Boston is a lot nicer in the summer, though the people are the same assholes as ever.”
“I wish I could stay, Phil, but I can’t. I’ve got things to work out at home in Kamloops. Business left unfinished.”
“You ain’t talking about that band of yours again? Listen man, that part of your life is over. I’ve seen how you get when you think about what happened with them. Don’t you want to stay here? It’s not worth the pain.”
“Don’t try to talk me out of it. I’ve made up my mind.” Kelly zipped up his suitcase and made for the door before pausing. He turned to where a vinyl album was hanging on the wall. ‘Starcubism – Visions of Mars, a Cubistic Journey (part 1)’ Shrugging, he grabbed it from the wall and put in his luggage.
“You’ll look after the place for me while I’m gone, won’t you?” He threw his apartment key to the now very dejected-looking rookie, and walked out.
Kelly Olynyk poked his head around the door. “Yeah?”
“You ain’t gonna take your keyboard?”
“That piece of junk? Haha! They didn’t call me ‘The Moog Man’ because I played cheap Yamaha crap. All my real equipment is still in my parent’s basement. Who knows, if all goes well I might get to use it to record part two.” And with that he departed.
Phil Pressey stood sadly in the now vacated apartment, then smiled a bit.
“Well if he’s gonna leave me here with all his stuff I’m gonna raid his fridge.”