I was back in the hallway of that New York apartment block, nearly four years earlier.

I entered my apartment and walked straight into the alcove where I'd been living for a year, devoid of any windows or natural sunlight. A few short strides later, I was in the 'living room' — which was actually Zac's bedroom.

Zac was sitting on the floor with a set of tools laid out beside him. As I approached, I noticed he was filling pale white powder into little baggies and stuffing them into the lining of his cello case.

"Zac!" I cried. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Zac looked up at me from the floor and grinned from ear to ear. "I'm preparing for my European escapades."

"By stuffing drugs into the lining of your cello case? What the hell?!"

"Drugs?" he asked, confused. He looked around at all the powder that had spilled onto the floor and laughed. "No, Nikki. This is Soylent. You know — that meal replacement stuff I was telling you about. I hate hunting for food like a neanderthal every few hours, because I think food should just be nutrition, unless it is delicious, like a cookie. So I thought I'd stock up on Soylent and take it to Europe with me. That way, I don't have to worry about food there. But I already have too much stuff in my suitcase, and I wanted to take my cello-"

"Why are you taking your cello?"

Zac sighed. "Because I've always dreamed of sitting in parks playing classical music on my cello. It just seems like such a great thing to do in life, y'know? Go to Europe and sit in parks, playing the cello."

I gave Zac a skeptical look. "You do realize, you can barely play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, right? You began playing the cello, like, three weeks ago, and it has been agony listening to you when your teacher comes around."

"Hmm… This is true..."

"And I don't want to shatter the fantasy or anything, but do you really want to lug that thing around Europe with you? It's huge!"

"That's what she said."

"Not to you, though."

"Harsh," Zac frowned.

"But true," I winked.

"How would you know?"

I sighed. "Because I like to think that penis size is inversely correlated to the size of one's ego. And yours is huge."

"My ego or my penis?"

"Your ego."

"But I named my penis, Ego."

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, I'm just gently suggesting that you rethink your Soylent transportation plan. The little baggies of pale powder stuffed into the lining of your cello case probably won't go down too well with customs."

Zac frowned and looked around at the hundreds of dollars worth of Soylent sitting in clear packets on the floor. He sighed. "And now I am experiencing the buyer's remorse."

"What are your plans, anyway?" I asked. "I have to be outta here in a week."

"You're flying straight back to Australia, right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Straight to Sydney. Oh! I haven't told you yet."

"Told me what?"

"I wasn't sure how I was going to afford a flight home, but just this afternoon, a good samaritan offered to buy me a flight with his frequent flyer points. He read my failure story, and it must have resonated. Isn't the world full of lovely people?"

"What the fuck?" Zac said. "Trust that to happen to you, of all people. Pandora and Bryce and I are convinced you have some kind of weird, magical luck gene. Like, it's actually scary. Sometimes when I need an extra boost of luck, I sacrifice a Weiss bar in your name."

"Is that why you'd always buy me Weiss bars in Australia? I thought you were just being a good friend."

"No. I was being a selfish, parasitic prick, feeding off your magic. And yet, it works. Whenever trouble comes my way, I do something nice for you, and the problem magically disappears. The other day I was on the phone with my mom, telling her about your luck. She told me it was bullshit. I defended you, saying, 'No, no! There is something to this!' Five minutes later, I stepped outside and found a crisp twenty-dollar note on the ground."

I giggled. "I'm flattered, Zachary. Really, I am. But my startup just failed-"

"Yeah. I guess that's kinda unlucky-"

"And besides — this is how religions get started."

"I know!" He hit his hand on the floor. "I know it's stupid. I know it's woo woo. But it works, goddamnit!"

"Maybe it works because you believe it works? I doubt it's me, in particular."

"Maybe..."

"You're funny. Anyway," I said, "what are your plans for clearing out of here?"

"I just bought a one-way ticket to Lithuania to meet up with some people, and then I think we're all going to Italy. I might spend a few months in Europe, then head down to Colombia. There's a place there called Medellin that's supposed to be paradise."

"Medellin? Isn't that where Pablo Escobar ran rampant?"

"Yeah," Zac replied. "But Escobar died twenty years ago, and now that place is a hidden gem. The property prices are still low because it was once the most dangerous city in the world, but that stigma will wear off when the secret gets out. It's called the city of eternal spring. The weather is perfect, all year round!"

"Sounds like a dream," I said. "I've been thinking about what I want to do next, and the idea of being a nomad sounds quite appealing. I don't know if I want to try my hand at another big startup. Like, I have this deep craving to do something useful with my life. I guess, something useful for humanity. But I also want to explore the world a little bit without feeling like I should be doing this or that. I'm sick of putting so much pressure on myself."

"Do it!" Zac said. "I know you. You'll make it happen. And I'll meet you one day in Medellin! I think I might buy a place there."

"Deal," I said.

"Deal," Zac agreed.

We shook hands.