The boys from Great Falls
- Reads 38
- Votes 1
- Parts 7
I don't know exactly what I'm doing. I really don't know what I'm doing as I hurriedly pack my entire wardrobe into a red suitcase, without thinking about how many panties I'm packing or if I'm dirtying my summer dresses by shoving my boots next to my white clothes. I think it must be the tequila shots I was carrying, the shots I may have drank from the crook of Alex's neck or Sarah's navel.
The truth is that it doesn't matter.
I make a whole paripé for a suitcase that I had been thinking about preparing for months. I got the bills exactly 4 months, 17 days and 38 after mom's death. But now I needed to act as if it had all been a crazy idea that had occurred to me a few hours ago while Alex was kissing my neck in a bathroom of the dirtiest and most lost bar in the city. Well then, at least I could blame my decision on alcohol, sex and spite, and then it would make sense to say that I was about to go to the town where my mother was apparently last seen.
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