It's been three days so here it is. Thanks for those who have reviewed/followed/favorited this story (and those that have silently read every chapter).

I think it's time I left the city. There's not much keeping me here anymore. Not since Cole anyway. It was nice while it lasted though, right?

I don't think I'll be back, not anytime soon at least. Maybe once I've got things sorted out. That won't be for a while though.

Don't try calling my phone. I disconnected it and my apartment's already been packeup away. I'm trying to start fresh, you know? I've got to keep moving.

You were a really good friend to me. Don't try to control Cole too much, he'll lose his originality.

-Wes

I couldn't help but think of that letter while I was on the train. I was really regretting leaving it. I can't believe I even wrote him a letter. I should have just skipped town and just let him figure it out on his own. No, that's a lie. I shouldn't have. Just disappearing wouldn't have been smart. Mark was always one to overreact.

I still wish I hadn't said half of the things I said.
I'm leaving for good.
-Wes

That would have sufficed. I keep replaying it over and over in my head and I keep thinking of all the different ways he could take it. Most of them horribly.

I just keep reliving what's already happened and it's making me feel stupid for even leaving. I just want to go back. It's only been three days and I'm feeling like a pussy for wanting to go back to my apartment. It doesn't matter if it's the new one or my old one.

I have to keep going though. There was a purpose to this whole thing and that was to leave New York behind and become more cultured. And to forget about Mark.

We'll get there eventually.

The leaving part of this trip felt great but now, much to my dismay, I actually miss Mark. It's just the gnawing feeling in my gut that won't go away.

When I said goodbye to Isaac, with new phone in hand, he made me give him a hug. I don't think he had any ulterior motive, I think that that's just the kind of person he was. I wanted to hug him, but I didn't want to hug him. I craved physical contact, just not from him.

It's a college city, Isaac had said. It's a place to have fun.I'll do that. I'll try to have fun, but where does one go to have fun? Maybe I could find a bar or a rinky dink place where some no named band plays. Boston isn't New York but they still have got to be similar, right?

It's what I was planning on. I used to know how to have fun in New York City so maybe I can pick that back up again.

I felt like I had come full circle. I was on a train with no specific place to be. I was less excited this time but that's to be expected seeing as how something is slowly eating away at my soul. I feel as though I'm only half joking.

If I hadn't had Isaac's directions I would have been completely lost. Hitching my backpack up on my shoulder I started to walk around town.

I didn't go looking for my motel right away. I just started to walk around and see the sights. I wanted to find something but I wasn't quite sure what it was. I was kind of tired from not getting a decent night's sleep in the past couple of weeks but I trudged on, determined to figure out what this city was all about.

There was a lot of old architecture mixed with some more modern buildings, but everything looked like it belonged. It looked like one generation grew seamlessly into the other.

In a way it was nothing like New York, but almost exactly the same. In looks the two are very different, depending on which part of New York City you're in, but I feel they're kind of the same. Everything was commercialized and attractive enough to make you want to stay.

There were people trying to get certain places like no one's business and there were people who were just taking their time. It was very familiar, very nice.

By the time I eventually did get my motel room I was exhausted and it was only five o'clock. I underestimated the amount of wandering I had done when I left the train station. Finding the motel was not easy task. Almost as soon as I had entered I collapsed on the single bed in the room. What was more apparent than my lack of energy was my increasing hunger. I just really needed something fatty to eat to satisfy my overworked body.

Getting up I asked at the front desk where the nearest fast food place was. On my way over here I wasn't too concerned on looking at my surroundings anymore; I was just worried about getting under a roof. The gross looking old man at the front desk told me that there was a great place for hot dogs and burgers was a few blocks to the right of the motel.

I considered starving myself instead of doing anymore walking.

Ultimately it was hunger over energy. I walked at a miserably slow pace the whole way there, mentally urging myself along. The man at the front desk didn't tell me what the name of the joint was but he didn't need to. By just looking at the building I could tell it was what I was looking for. It was dirty and gross and perfect.

The guy at the counter looked kind of run down and tired, the kind where he looked tired from life, not from the day. "Can I take your order, kid?" he asked with a thick Boston accent.

"Give me anything, I'm so hungry," I muttered, mostly to myself but loud enough for the man to hear me.

The man just rolled his eyes and said he'd 'surprise' me.

I took a seat in the closest booth to the counter. There was another scruffy looking old guy in the corner just finishing up his food. By the time my food was brought out he had already thrown his trash out and put a few bucks in the tip jar.

There's something about food that drips grease that's just so appealing. It's great and it's always the same. Food is stable. Maybe I'll spiral into a whirlwind of depression and go to food as comfort?

When I was done, I paid for my food and stuffed a ten in the jar. "That's awfully generous of you, kid."

"You look as tired as I feel," I said to him as I was walking out.

"Don't we all," the man said with a laugh as the door closed