She left her books, her car, her notes, her clothes and a note. But all she wrote was, "Tonight I'm leaving on a train". She said she's headed west to make it right for one more night. And, well, I don't blame her if she is. And after all, it's all her fault. If she hasn't caught fire yet.
Oh my God, I just can't handle this.
Footsteps in the doorway, echos in the halls. This west coast sun is just just like the last one. So nothing, nearly scared to death.