Forever Feels Like Winter

Saturday 14th,

Have you ever felt like you were drowning but there wasn't any water around you? Like when the water feels like it's filling up your lungs, rushing through your veins, and it's pushing out your organs through your toes? So much water that you're trickling it out of your eyes? I guess that's how I felt this morning when I woke up in the musty motel room I had rented out for last night. When I started picking up my things, I just couldn't stop feeling sorry for myself. Like, how pathetic can one get? I was all alone in a place that I wasn't even sure was safe, listening to the muffled cries from the room next door, and wondering how many days it'd pass before my debit card would be shut down from my parents. I know it's not as bad as others have it, but I sure as hell wasn't feeling good that morning. It wasn't like one of those Disney movies where you wake up to the sound of birds chirping and bust out into a melodious call to a prince charming. It was pretty blunt. I woke up to cockroaches crawling in the bed covers and heard screams coming down from the hallway.

So, I should probably start at the beginning of the story, that way you could catch up on what I've been doing since I left home. But frankly, my life has still been uneventful. I wish I could say that after I was diagnosed with early stages of adenocarcinoma, I met a boy and we eloped to Canada, but that didn't happen. Instead I just left home. Nothing too big of a grand exit, just a stroll at night that became never ending. Now I'm here. Somewhere. Not sure if I care really, but I think it's Minnesota. Three thousand miles I've crossed by any means of transportation. It's only been two weeks and I feel like I haven't accomplished enough. Today I had decided to step it up and try to make it to Iowa as soon as possible, but I was intercepted of this thought process by the door opening to reveal a very happy teen wearing a long brown overcoat over a pair of trousers and a business shirt.

"Hi," he had breathed out with a goofy grin, "Are you looking for adventure? Because adventure has found you."

And that was when I met the Falcon. After demanding an explanation to as how he got into my room and what he wanted from me, I extracted enough information to deduce that he was a run away like myself. Turns out, he had seen me a couple times before when he had traveled and was interested in taking me under his wing. I didn't know if it was a good idea, and now thinking back on it I really shouldn't have, but I had said yes. Some human interaction sounded great at the time. Plus, he didn't seem that bad, aside from breaking into my room. But after really getting to know him, I wasn't sure if getting into his car was the smartest idea. Not saying that he was a maniac ready to murder me, he was a talker, a big talker. And that was just as bad.

"Where you from?" I had asked in hopes to silence his endless banter about dogs. He told me he was a dog person. A passionate one at that. He had spent the last few minutes babbling about dalmatians and I was getting tired of it.
"New York," He boasted with a big smile. The Falcon looked over his shoulder as he backed out of the motel parking lot, "And you? Wait-"
"Yeah?"
"I don't even know your name," He laughed heartily before shaking his head, his brown nest of hair swaying to the beat of the music that blared through his speakers, "What is it?"
"Cassie," I lied.
"Cool, I'm Danny but you can call me the Falcon."
Glad to have avoided the question of my origin, I glanced out the convertible car, watching the streetlights blur past us, "Alright, Falcon. Where are we headed?"
He glanced over at me, "Cass, I thought you'd never ask. We're going to go see the greatest thing in the world."

Turns out, the greatest thing in the world was just a play down the street, only a couple blocks away from our motel. Although I was annoyed with the diversion from our original course, which was supposed to be somewhere other than the same city we had just been in five minutes ago, I did enjoy watching the show with him. It was normal. Something that real teenagers would do. And it didn't feel like we were hiding anything from each other then when we sat in the too small seats and in the crowded, humid auditorium. It was just us and time. And I guess that made it alright for once. Because I missed feeling like I belonged. So that was it, really. He took me out to a play and we ate at a cafe at 11 o'clock. Eating like starved teenagers, because that's what we basically were, he had payed for the both of us. I might be wrong, but I think it was a date. My first date, to be exact. And as odd as it sounds, eating with a fellow runaway, sneaking into the play, and riding the streets like we had a clue where we were going wasn't such a bad date after all.

Now, we're on the road again. The Falcon needs me to load some things into the trunk. Hope it's not dead bodies. I'll talk to you later. Oh, and thanks. For sticking around, I mean. I appreciate it.

-Mel.