You told Sam you were going to San Francisco for business.

Philadelphia for a conference.

There was a trade show in New York.

None of these events were real. Or maybe they were, but you were not attending.

You were meeting Chris at hotels when both of your business dealings happened to bring you to the same city. It was a cosmopolitan affair.

You would think of Sam buried in his studio at home. He made that choice. He chose that passion over you, and that career and financial choice that limited his mobility. He was stuck there, and was too bullheaded to accept any more benevolence from you besides a place to sleep. He was a louse and you were sick of it.

But, Chris didn't want more than your mile-high club status. Your weekend rendezvous at four-star hotels were the most developed it could get.

And you grew tired of the travel and began missing meetings with him across the globe. You would curl up in front of the television eating popcorn.

Sam noticed that you were home. He came out of his studio and plopped on the couch. Not a word passed between you as you both stared at the bluish light emitted from the screen and watched the shitty programming together.