she stepped out with the last of her bags into the mild autumn night. it felt just fine, which did not suit her at all. she would have preferred a more somber weather to match her mood: gloomy, misty, cold -- anything. the mildness of the night taunted her with a seemingly uncaring air of arrogance. it reminded her that the world neither stops nor changes for anyone -- not even in the worst or most desperate of times -- and this was certainly one of those. tears dried on her sticky, mascara-smeared face and her hands shook with tension as she lugged her belongings to her car, unsure of what to do next.

it wasn't the first time she'd felt unwanted, despised, nor did she assume it to be the last. a numbness slowly settled into her body and mind like a mild anesthesia as she slid into her packed car. she welcomed it, and invited it to stay as long as it'd like, as she much preferred it to the wave of emotions and subsequent nausea she'd been feeling lately. she felt next to nothing, even as she watched him rev up his motorcycle beside her, never so much as glancing over, and veer off into the road before she could even put her car into drive. a little voice inside of her screamed and begged for her to break down, but she could not hear it as she cranked up her radio and sped away from her week-long residence. another notch, another failure.

there was only place for her to go, avoiding the streets, but admitting defeat: home. her mother's home, to be exact, and hours after she had announced her flight from the nest. in hindsight, though, the situation had been predictable. It seemed possibly worthy of its own exaggerated TV-drama episode, yet slightly too annoying and too pathetic to be worthy of an audience. that whiny little voice broke through her cushy numbness upon arrival. shuffling across the threshold of the familiar house, ashamed and defeated, she could feel tears welling up and blurring her vision until they quickly spilled over onto her cheeks.