She left the door cracked, took only the things she would need for a life on the streets and left. Outside, she hailed a cab and had herself taken to ...he Bel-Ayre motel again. Her old room was still available and she paid it up for two weeks. At the corner grocery, she restocked her foodstuffs and cough drops. She had become enough of a fixture that no one gave her a second glance. Back in her room, she lay on the bed, crying at the sadness her life had become, a thing without hope or meaning.. The floor had been vacuumed. The bed had been made. Incorrectly, but it had been made. I looked in the bathroom. The towels had been washed and hung up. Incorrectly, but they were hung in the proper place. If I died this minute, my life would have been complete. I realized as I awaited the return of my family, that I had nothing to do. There were things I could choose to do. But there was nothing I had to do. It was a bewildering feeling. I called to catch up with some friends I had not had the. More

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