It doesn’t take long to pack. I don’t have much.
New clothes. New wallet. New tablet.
Same songbook. Same guitar.Same girl.
Cut adrift. Again.
On the run. Again.
I take one last look around, checking the vanity in the bathroom for any remaining items, pulling open the bedside table drawers on both sides of the bed, to see if any of my things found their way inside. I freeze when my fingers land on a small, blue box in Ryder’s drawer. My eyes lock on it and I’m suddenly struggling to breathe. I can feel my emotions raging behind the dense wall I’ve thrown up against my mind, trying desperately to reach me.
I don’t let them in.
And I don’t open the ring box. With my pointer finger, I stroke the velvet. Just once. That’s all I’ll allow myself. That’s all I can handle, without falling apart completely.
At least a minute passes before I’m able to tear my eyes from the future I almost had. Another before I’m actually able to turn and walk out of the room, my suitcase wheels rolling against the hardwood so loud, it makes my ears bleed.
I leave the bedside table drawer open when I walk out.
I don’t let myself look back.