This City of Ghosts

[So, I know I said I was leaving you for bigger and better things--and I still am, I wasn't lying--but life's been moving so fast that I haven't had time yet to find a suitable replacement, so here I am. But only for a little bit, I promise.]

It's last fall whenever I think about you. Walking to class with the leaves crunching under our feet and laughing at spilled coffee and words that spilled out effortlessly. You were always so positive and so much more prepared than I ever was, always late and frazzled, but you never once made me feel guilty for any of it. And today, I can't help but find myself replaying last fall over again in my head, because right now all I want is to hear real words and to be hugged at the end of it all. You left us too soon.

And that's probably why today, as I rode the bus to the grocery store, ready to fill my backpack with orange juice and cans of condensed chicken soup, all I could think about was what would happen if I didn't get off at that stop I'm supposed to get off at and instead stayed seated, riding the bus in giant circles around the city. And then I started thinking about jumping in a car, or even on a plane if I could manage it, and going so far away that everything would be new and nobody would be familiar. And all the while I was trying to figure out if this was possible or not, I sat there with walls up and everything securely tucked away and almost missed my stop.