Like A Blinking Cursor On

Despite My Dad's Assurances I Was Strangely Nervous My Stomach Tight Ever Since We'd Hung Up. Maybe Deb Had Picked Up On This And It Was Why She'd Pretty Much Talked Nonstop Since I'd Approached Her And Asked For A Ride. I'd Barely Had Time To Explain The Situation Before She Had Launched Into A Dozen Stories To Illustrate The Point That Things Happened But People Were Okay In The End.

I Walked Over, My Eyes Scanning Luna Blu, My House, And Dave's. But It Was The Building Behind Them, That Empty Hotel, That Had The Tiniest Light, Provided By One Word, Written In Fluorescent Paint. Maybe It Wasn't What Was Once There, In Real Life. But In This One, It Said It All: Stay.

He Wasn't What I'd Thought He Was; Maybe He Never Had Been. I Wasn't What I'd Thought I Was, Either.

In The End, Though, Maybe It's Not How You Reach A Place That Matters. Just That You Get There At All.

With Total Strangers, It Had Always Been My Policy To Expect The Worst. Usually They-and Those That You Knew Best, For That Matter-did Not Disappoint.