Packed my suitcase and walked out the door. Stumbled back in and packed some more. I’m not taking my lenses along, because I’m short-sighted even with them on. And I guess this constitutes running away, though it’s months and months delayed. I’m through with self-pity here. I’m making the big changes to self-pity in new places. Killing some time on the observatory deck. Maggie’s St. Christopher around my neck. Watching airplanes chug off with grace while Syd keeps howling in her carrying case. And I kneel down to tell her what’s going on and why she has to come along. She’s the only thing that keeps me sane, though debatable it might be that that word would describe me. So hey, I’ll shut up, because there’s na-na-na-na-nothing left to say. It’s okay. You’re nowhere near me anyway. And hey, hey, Sara. Shut up Sara. Sara shut up, I say it to myself again. Sara shut up, in the voice of an absent friend. Sara shut up, I say it to remember you and everything I didn’t do. Sara shut up. Since you’ve gone, I act out scenes from our old arguments to blow off steam. And I play you and the cat plays me and I never look too good, obviously. There’s a message that’s on my machine. It’s been there for over a year. I can’t take it off. I play it back to hear you. I pretend it’s brand new. Chorus.