From the window of Donna's room you can't see the Titans Tower.
The house is still invaded by cardboard boxes, it smells of changes and the suitcase open on the beds seems to be a good wish for the future.
Inside there are things you absolutely don't wanna lose during the home moving; memories, the significant ones, and they hurts.
Her hands sinks inside the suitcase like into a black hole, clunged to the wooden frame of their team photo, the same every Titan have, the same every Titan still keep jealously, might it be hidden in a drawer or on a desk.
Donna still wants to believe in it.
It's heavy to lift, to handle, and she knows every time she'll look at it, she will feel herself choking, but that's a pain she needs right now.
Jenny comes near, Donna can hear her steps, and, she can see it in her eyes, Jenny would want to say something, but she doesn't. She sits at the bottom of the bed, maintaining a safety distance from Donna's pain, not invading, not comforting, but letting her know that she's close.
« They're my legs and my arms. » Donna answers Jenny's apprehensive glance, 'cause she deserves it. « Without them I feel mutilated. »
From the window of Donna's room you cannot see the Titans Tower. That's what she wants.