I don’t need to invent a character who is leaving behind something they love. Why make it up when the pain is already throbbing inside me?

December. Tickets. Huge cardboard boxes and trash bags. Stuff is gone. The apartment feels hollow. Not mine anymore. A strange mix of relief and emptiness. “But how can I leave my dog?”

Drones hum across the sky. Anxiety tightens its grip. I have to go. “But ...