There was nothing unusual about the day I left.
The sun bore down without mercy, baking the concrete buildings and pavements, heat radiating from them in a near invisible wave, drying the earth.
A steady rush of people bustled, they were all going somewhere. Some wore office attire and clutched cups of steaming, mass produced, coffee all boasting a generic logo announcing the holder had managed to snatch five minutes from their busy schedule to queue in Starbucks. You couldn't work in an office and be taken seriously without a daily cup of mediocre coffee.
The sky, a fantastic shade of periwinkle that seemed to dominate in hot climates, smiled down at the frustrated line of traffic consisting of buses carrying children to school and the morning rush of workers.
The city screamed vitality.
It was a vitality I'd been brought up with. Ever since moving to phoenix with my Mother, Renee, when I was five, I'd gotten used to the possibilities the sprawling city had presented. There was never a time I could say I'd been given the chance to be bored. The weeks' time was divided equally between School, homework and whatever wild new craze Renee had discovered. The weekend was the rare house party hosted by the child whose parents had gone away and left them in charge and a shift as a waitress at another generic pizzeria, promising the finest, most realistic, Italian meal in the United States.
It was a perfectly normal, perfectly mundane, teenage schedule. I'd loved it.
So why was I uprooting myself? Uprooting all the neat stacks of designated periods I'd fit my life into and moving to a place where the sun shone five times a year?
Because I was mad. That and because my adoration for Renee was such that I refused to be a barrier to the happiness she'd found with Phil. Renee wanted to travel and she needed to travel. A seventeen year old minor could not fit into that plan.
If I'd had a boyfriend, or even an exceptionally close best friend, my resolve may have been weakened and I'd have given in to what I really wanted to do but there was no one.
My last and only serious relationship, if you could call six months and a fumble in his back seat serious, had ended with quick disinterest. I was disinterested because he was quick.
Renee had such a care-free attitude towards sex education that I'd matured enough to know my first time wouldn't be fireworks and flowers but I also knew I should feel some resemblance of passion. So the first time had been the last time. I didn't regret it. Didn't wish I'd waited until marriage with the right guy. I simply kissed Riley farewell and moved on.
So here I was, on an 11am outbound flight to Seattle, with circles so dark under my eyes and a mouth ironed flat so grimly the stewardess may have mistaken me for an addict.
The grim mouth was a product of leaving behind my sun filled haven. The circles were a result of tossing and turning during a disrupted night of dreams. Dreams filled of clammy hands and frightened expressions.
No. There was nothing unusual about the day I left.