head west

She sat with her feet hanging over the edge and thought about how long it would take to hit the ground running. It had been nothing but broken signs and empty glasses since she left and the idea of going back was the only thing worse than going forward. Why did it seem that at this age only one piece of life could come together at a time. Only in loosing something would you gain something else and the sacrifice of breaking one meant the resolution of another. People are not for barter. Time is not for sale. And as far as she had become concerned, love wasn’t a commodity they carried on this side of the Mississippi. It was why she was heading West. If it was good enough for the sun to set, it was good enough for her.