Manipulation.

I didn’t know what I was expecting by moving out of the city. I just knew that I had to do something to kickstart my life, and it seemed reasonable. That is, until I actually moved out of the city. At least I cried a lot less, and it was easier to think. Otherwise, I have to admit, I missed the noise of New York.

It had been a terribly long drive from the city to the tiny town of Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania. Or, it had seemed terribly long with everything I owned packed in my car, a broken radio, and no one to talk to. Granted, it was all my fault (okay, the radio wasn’t) but I still think I had every right to be upset about it. Moving was always going to be a big change.

Luckily, negotiating for rent hadn’t been too bad. It was a college town, so I was willing to pay more than most of the upperclass students were, and the apartment was mine instantly. I think the landlord was just happy to have someone older than twenty living in her building, as if it would calm down the atmosphere. Lucky for her, I liked to keep to myself, so I wouldn’t be any trouble for her. The rest of the kids who lived in my building, well, they were a very different story.

The building wasn’t terrible, either. The ceilings were a bit low, so I hit my head a number of times before I started to get used to it. I never did have very good control over my lanky frame. As a tall girl, I was expected to have played basketball or volleyball or something, but anyone who had ever seen me in a gym understood clearly why that wasn’t true.

I had gone grocery shopping at the local Wal-Mart my first night, and had just been eating alone in my apartment, which was much more comfortable for me. Alas, there would come a night where I was no longer in the mood for the food I had stocked up on, and I decided to go out.

I should have just stayed home. I should have finished the job applications lying on my counter. But I went out, and I paid for it.