I know I haven't written in ages, but I've had a lot of writers block. Thank you so much to Lil Badger 101 for your review, and to the people who followed this story. Hope this is okay for you. PM me saying what you want to see, or give me any ideas.

Liquid thoughts. Running through his head, flowing through his brain. They went to fast to catch them, too quick to stop and examine them and try to figure out what they meant. Figure out what he was thinking. Because Greg wasn't sure. He tried to pin them down, these liquid thoughts, tried to catch the fleeting emotions that pumped through him faster than his blood. Adrenaline. Worry. Excitement Fear. Relief. Pain. Anticipation. Confusion. Uncertainty. Joy. He was finally away, he could do what he wanted. But the world was big. And he wasn't. He was able to be the most exciting person back in his small Norwegian town, but here? There? Wherever he was going to go? Not so much. He doubted he was even the most exciting person in this airport, in Oslo, less than an hour from his hometown. A lady that looked suspiciously male. A man in a flawless suit, dark sunglasses and a briefcase with a padlock. A group of emo's. A teen boy with his hood up running as fast as he could, with three security guards in his pursuit. An elderly woman trying to tell fortunes with a packet of snap cards. And then Greg. Gregory Hojem Sanderson.

What was it that made him special anyway? Back home it was pretty obvious. He was the only person in a thirty mile radius with only one parent. Aside from all the traditional households, The Sanderson family consisted of Greg and his mother. He never had a father. All he knew was his last name. Hojem. His mother was secretly scorned for being a single mother who became pregnant out of wedlock, and many of the old generation Norwegians had called him a devil child. He was the one who all the fathers locked up their daughters from. He was the one who had his first girlfriend at age nine. Anna. She was blonde, and her father didn't like him. This was also the profile for all the other Norweigan girls he'd dated. All in all, he'd gone out with twenty girls in his small town, and was known as a bit of a heart breaker But he wasn't really. He was still friends with all the girls. Just the other month, Karen and Marie had helped him dye his hair with lemon juice, bleach and yellow paint. It was still a bit wacky, with random blonde bits sticking out of his normal sandy haired birds nest. He was the kid who startled every family in the town the time he walked home wearing only his boxer shorts after he'd given his trousers to a homeless man. He was the one the parents disapproved of, the children idolized the girls loved and the boys were jealous of. Greg didn't play sport, like cars or smoke cigarettes, so he was never really friends with any of the guys.

What was next for him? What place was calling Greg Sanderson? He realized he needed something new. Something different, to make him ready for this adventure he was about to take. A new name. Greg...Sanderson...Greg Sandy... Greg Sander? Greg Sanders. That was it. He took out the new credit card he'd just got, and scratched off the o and the n at the end. That was probably illegal. Oh well. Keeping in mind his new name and new state of mind, Greg looked up again at the list of destinations.

London.

Berlin.

Madrid.

Rome.

Paris.

Maybe it was time to leave Europe altogether? Have a completely fresh start?

Nigeria.

Madagascar.

Zambia.

Sydney.

Melbourne.

New Zealand.

Hong Kong.

Calcutta.

Beijing.

Rio de Janeiro

Buenos Aires

Santiago

Toronto

Chicago

New York

New York. That was it. He could feel it. Why hadn't he thought of it before? New York was the land of opportunity, the field of dreams. It was where he belonged. And the next flight was in less than an hour? Fate? Or just good timing?

He looked down to find his bag. Lying next to it was a one dollar bill. Greg had never seen a dollar before. After looking around to check it didn't belong to anyone, Greg put it in his pocket. He'd need it where he was going. Fate? Or just a coincidence?

"One ticket to New York please." he said breathlessly to the lady at the desk.

"I'm sorry." She said. "We've just sold our last ticket on that flight."

You have no tickets to New York.

"Excuse me sir? You said you needed a ticket to New York?" Greg turned around. It was the guy with a padlocked briefcase and shades.

"Em.. yes?" Greg asked.

"I've had a... new development in my job... and I've had to change my destination. You can have my ticket."

"For real?" Greg asked.

"Just so long as you make sure and not tell anybody what you know about me. I have a very important job for a very important man." the man whispered, handing over the ticket.

"Couldn't if I wanted to." Greg said.

And then he was gone, leaving the ticket in Greg's hand. Fate? Or just good luck?

As he boarded the plane, Greg stopped suddenly, wondering if this was a good idea. He had made a decision in ten minutes that would change his life forever. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the terminal. He was suddenly met by a huge gust of wind, as was apparantely fairly commonplace in an airport. Leaves, trash and pieces of paper all blew into his face. He stopped to grab an old, faded leaflet that was rushed towards his eyes at an alarming speed. It was an ad for a sightseeing tour of New York. Fate? Or just a fluke?

He put on foot forward. The he did the same with the other one. He took a step forward. Then another. Then another. He kept taking steps until eventually he reached the steps on to the plane. Halfway up, he stopped. Was this really a good idea? But then the man behind him nudged him forward and there was no more time to think about it so he got on the plane and found his seat and sat in it and did up his seatbelt and watched the safety announcements and prepared for take off and then they were in the air and he finally remembered to breathe. He was out. He did it. In the end, he'd always known he would. The flight attendant came around with her trolley and he asked for a glass of water and he toasted himself. This was it. The start of the rest of his life. Was he ready? No way. Was he prepared? Not at all. Was he going to do it anyway?

Hell yeah.

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