She Was Just A Shell Of Her

Some People, They Can't Just Move On, You Know, Mourn And Cry And Be Done With It. Or At Least Seem To Be. But For Me... I Don't Know. I Didn't Want To Fix It, To Forget. It Wasn't Something That Was Broken. It's Just...something That Happened. And Like That Hole, I'm Just Finding Ways, Every Day, Of Working Around It. Respecting And Remembering And Getting On At The Same Time.

I Walked Over, My Eyes Scanning Luna Blu, My House, And Dave's. But It Was The Building Behind Them, That Empty Hotel, That Had The Tiniest Light, Provided By One Word, Written In Fluorescent Paint. Maybe It Wasn't What Was Once There, In Real Life. But In This One, It Said It All: Stay.

I Always Tried To Imagine What It Would Be Like To Open Your Door To Find Something You Had Given Up On. Maybe It Had Seen Places You Never Had, Been Rerouted And Passed Through So Many Strange Hands, But Still Somehow Found Its Way Back To You, All Before The Day Even Began.

This Is Exactly What I Wanted, As Commitments Had Never Really Been My Thing. And It Wasn't Like It Was Hard, Either. The Only Trick Was Never Giving More Than You Were Willing To Lose.

That Sucks, Though," Wes Said Finally, His Voice Low. "you're Just Setting Yourself Up To Fail, Because You'll Never Get Everything Perfect." "says Who?" He Just Looked At Me. "the World," He Said, Gesturing All Around Us, As If This Party, This Deck Encompassed It All. "the Universe. There's Just No Way. And Why Would You Want Everything To Be Perfect, Anyway?" "i Don't Want Everything To Be Perfect," I Said. Just Me, I Thought. Somehow. "i Just Want—