that I hopped a plane to Australia. One-way. It’s not that I have a particular fascination with Australia or that I never wanted to come back, I just wasn’t concerned about the when. Three days. Five days. Seven. I had no plans, though I recall visiting a private school for the well-off. I met a school boy. He tried to look up my dress, but I just laughed at his boyish curiosity and took in the majestic picture windows, the euphoric, dancing sun pouring across the polished wooden floor, and the tranquil courtyard below. I found Briana within. She wouldn’t get out of bed for all the pleading in the world. She laughed at me and my world melted back into America.
My alarm went off to the tune of The Lion King, sending me into the dark, harsh, feels-like-negative-sixteen morning. Snow is prettier when it doesn’t hurt so bad.