She was miserable. She could feel the old despair creeping in on her. Last night a man tried to get in the bed with her after busting in her room. She heard a shout and laughter. She sat up and grabbed her head and covered her ears. She looked out the window and seen the road. It was calling to her. But where would she go? Who’d want her? Damaged goods? An ex robber? An ex druggie? She heard glass breaking and more shouts. Without thinking she jumped up, ran to the closet. Pulled out the army duffel bag that was once her grandfather’s. Opened the drawers and dumped the few clothes she had in it. Along with her shampoo and make up. Make up she never wore. Slipped on her cut off shorts and cowboy boots. Tied her uncle’s flannel shirt to make it shorter. She liked to sleep in the thing. She put the duffel bag over her shoulder and took one long look at the room. She made one last stop to the mattress, pulled it up and took the photo. Looked at it a long time. Kissed it and walked to the window. Pulled it up and climbed out. She went to her red pickup and hoped like hell it’d last to get here wherever she was going. She climbed in, put the photo in the glove compartment and cranked up. Took one long last look at this lit up house. Front door wide open. Music blaring. Shouting and drugging and knew she would never look back.