OOM: Buenos Aires

He'd had no idea how much he'd missed Latin America until he was back. Two days in Argentina's capital city has done more to make him feel like himself than anything else ever could, short of going home.

Of course, he's seeing the place differently than he would normally. They're in a dirt-cheap motel in a part of the city that's practically a slum, a fact born out by the small and grimy accomodations, the noise of people screaming at each other two floors above and the way ths streets outside are filled with pushers, hookers and pimps.

Ramon loves it. He feels thirty years younger. He knows this sort of life, though he's far removed from it now. But it's nice to visit and be reminded of what he came from, he's finding.

It's early and Random's still sleeping in the rickety old bed; he can hear him breathing as he stands in the bathroom, dressed in worn out jeans and a white beater, with damp hair curling in the heat and shaving with the aid of a cracked and dirty mirror. His thoughts make him smile to himself sarcastically - he may feel younger but even a broken mirror tells him that he's not eighteen any more.

But it's OK. In the span of the life he's going to have, he's still young. And there's a city out there right now, close enough to home to be comforting, familiar enough to be enjoyed. And Random in their bed, which is enough to make any day good.