I double-check my bags, making sure I’m not forgetting anything, then grab my plane ticket along with the other necessities off of my dresser. I lope down the stairs, send a message to my mom letting her know I’m about to head to the airport, then check the doors and windows to make sure they’re locked before walking out into the brisk chill of the morning where everyone is already waiting for me. I pull my hood over my head and readjust the bags on my shoulder.
The morning is shrouded by fog, the grass is still wet and shining from dew, and the air is made colder by the dampness that hangs in it. Judging from the silence, not even the birds have awoken from their nightly slumber, which means it’s unnaturally early for me to be out of bed myself. The sleep that continues to make my eyel
