Fair Warning

Autumn leaves are crushed beneath the wheels of cars that have too many places to go, plastered to the road by last night's rain. It carried over into the morning, tapping insistently at my windows all through breakfast. I ignored it, save the bitter thought of having wanted to go for a walk today…

With the sharp taste of toothpaste still fresh in my mouth, I pile my bags into the car. Every movement is forced. My shoulders are wet by the time I'm done, but I smile and tell the mirror none of it matters as much as leaving this place. I am willing to, but more importantly, I can put up with anything as long as I'm gone. Call me a coward, call me selfish, I don't care. I'm leaving this place and myself behind in hopes of something better. I'll get a new haircut, a new job, a new set of friends – it'll be perfect. Not another night will be wasted on this life, not a trace will be left. I'll be washed completely clean.

I left her a note on the mirror for when she gets back this afternoon, or whenever, she's never consistent. It's more warning than she ever gave me…