As I'm waiting for my Uber, I take one last look around my home. Taking it all in, making sure I have only what I absolutely need. I adjust the envelope on the table with my letter, the letter, wondering who will find it first: my dad, my sister or my son. On top of the letter are my car keys, my cellphone and my ID. I don't need them anyways, not where I'm going. My mind is all over the place so I don't remember who is supposed to be home from what activity first. I check the map on my burner phone, see that I still have a few minutes and walk around one more time.
I don't know where I'm going, honestly I haven't planned that far ahead. The letter doesn't say either. It just says that I can't do this anymore, and it's become too much. It's not a lie. Very cryptic, I think to myself. I wonder if they'll think I've offed myself or just ran away. I left my stuff so it could be either one. I'm not sure. A dead person doesn't need anything, and a runaway would be dumb to bring their own items. I double check to make sure my new documents are in the backpack I have on my shoulder. I've had them for so long now that I've memorized everything on them. They cost a fair amount of money, cash I had to hide here and there for a few months. But they'll get me wherever it is I decide to go and that's the most important part.
The Uber driver has to verify my name. It was hard to choose one, even after looking through the baby name book I've had since I was pregnant with my oldest son. It had to be something I liked but not enough to use for my own kids. Finally I settled on Amelia, and that's the one I gave the Uber driver.
