Chapter 146 begins with the quiet rhythm of nature surrounding Patch and Misty as they hike along a trail, the steady crunch of leaves underfoot punctuating their conversation. Misty, in a nostalgic mood, brings up her desire to see the musical film Grease once again. She talks about how the songs, the dances, and even the yellow dress she wore during the last viewing are imprinted in her memory. Patch listens but subtly shifts the topic towards geological wonders, mentioning the curious process of alluvial and glacial meltwater and its impact on the surrounding landscape. Misty, however, is not swayed. Her mind remains on Grease, where the lyrics seem to be as much a part of her past as the trails they walk, hinting at the deeper layers of her own personal history and longing.

With a smile, Patch attempts to steer the conversation back to the hike, but Misty shares with him how she remembers all the lyrics of Grease as if they were written in her soul. She admits, almost wistfully, how special the movie had been to her when she was younger and how that yellow dress she wore had always made her feel free. Patch, half-entertained and half-distracted, allows her to indulge in the nostalgia, but soon the conversation takes a strange turn. He tells her a disjointed story about a man in prison who had once protested poor hygiene standards in the prison—an attempt to lighten the mood but one that leaves Misty frowning. The somberness of his tale contrasts sharply with the light-hearted mood Misty had been cultivating, and the atmosphere feels a little too heavy.

As the hike continues, the chatter slows. Misty, who had been full of life and stories just moments ago, grows quieter, and Patch senses the change. They pass by a butterfly glade, where the iridescent creatures flutter about, and a pair of roadrunners dash across their path. Despite these vibrant sights, Misty’s eyes remain distant, her mind seemingly elsewhere. Her shoulders, once light with laughter, now seem burdened, and Patch notices that her usual enthusiasm is missing. She does not comment on the wildflowers, nor does she seem to notice the beauty around them. Even the English muffins she’d brought along sit untouched in her bag, a stark contrast to the lively energy she once had.

Eventually, they reach a small clearing where Patch tries again to rekindle the earlier mood, asking about her thoughts on the movie. Misty’s response is immediate, almost too quick, her voice a little too eager as she agrees with a cheerful “Yes, I’d love to go.” Patch is momentarily taken aback by her enthusiasm. It’s as if she’s forcing herself to find that spark again, to convince herself that this one thing—the movie, the trip, the past—can still bring joy, despite everything. It feels almost like an act, but one she’s determined to perform for both of them, perhaps as a way to hold onto something that still feels pure.

They return to their car in silence, the world around them seemingly muted as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Patch glances at Misty, but she’s looking out the window, lost in thought. The gentle hum of the engine and the soft rustling of the trees fill the air, but between them, an invisible weight has settled. It’s a quiet understanding of the things left unsaid—the unspoken truths that both of them are still grappling with. Misty’s attempt at normalcy is commendable, but it doesn’t quite erase the undercurrent of sadness that seems to color everything they do.

As they drive off, the feeling of something unresolved lingers in the air. Patch keeps his hands firmly on the wheel, but his mind is elsewhere, wondering what is really happening beneath the surface. The tension between them is palpable, neither of them willing to confront the emotional chasm between them. Despite the shared history and fleeting moments of connection, they both understand that the real journey lies in the unspoken words, the pasts they carry, and the future they are both too afraid to face together.