"I just wanna go home. Do you know where home is?"
There are dark bags under his eyes as his body rocks back and forth on the plain sequence couch.
"I don't wanna go to Italy no more. I don't wanna go no where no more."
He rubs his tired eyes rhythmically with his fingers.
"You end up crashing in a private airplane in the mountains of Tennessee, or Sicily."
He laughs out loud at his own statement. His body is tired, his mind is tired, he hasn't really slept in weeks and the strain of constant travel has brought him to the edge. His shoulder twitches uncontrollably and unnoticed under his leather jacket. The man in the suit sitting across from him responds by saying something about the tour. Exactly what the suit had said was unimportant. He could only say one thing anyway.
"I don't know, I just wanna go home."
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