Virginia, USA.  November 24th

Sometimes, you can never really know a person. People, at times, are merely actors painting the pretend lives they wish to portray to the critical audience known as society.

Ardelia Mapp was shocked. She had spent a good quarter of her life with a stranger. The imposer, formerly known as Clarice Michelle Starling, had just walked in the door announcing the hatred of her job and the official countdown to the beginning of her forth-year paid vacation. Strangely enough, she looked the happiest Ardelia had ever seen her. What happened to this woman's unyielding devotion to the FBI? The honourable sense that her job was making a difference to a world full of needy innocents? 

The woman stood stunned in the kitchen as her roommate plonked an overflowing cardboard box on their coffee table.

"You look happy for a woman that hates her job"

Her smile ceased to fade. The contents of the box flooding the glass top: folders, books, tapes, pencils, and photographs.

"That's it Ardelia. My entire life summed up in some flimsy box. Look at it!" Clarice pointed to the collapsing mess, and then to her friend.

To Ardelia, she looked almost so happy she could cry. She though, perhaps it was the reverse of that statement working.

"Are you okay girl? I'm not sure that's something to be smiling about." She tried to drain the intense worry from her tone, but failed. The darker woman walked from behind the countertop, resting a fillet knife in a small dish drainer and moved towards the living room.

"Damn right it is! It's like a revelation. I hate everything about my job, and I'm getting out of here." Clarice sat down on the couch two feet behind her and stretched her arms to the ceiling, like she does when she first wakes up in the morning.

"What's going on? I don't understand. What happened?"

An eerie laugh cut through the silence. Clarice's head rolled back in curious amusement, she looked almost diabolical.

"I've been unhappy most of my life Ardelia." Her blue eyes glazed over. "I'm tired of whining and coming home to a bottle of bourbon. I'm taking my leave and I'm getting outta here." At that she stood with a revived confidence and strode passed her bewildered friend into her bedroom.

Dutifully, Ardelia followed, desperately fighting to process the new waves of information crashing against her memory and logic. A true friend should have seen this. Guilt stung and made her wince in self-frustration. She had thought Clarice was happy, perhaps a little worn-down, but content at least.

"Where are you going to go?" She caught up to her and leaned against the doorframe for some much needed support. She watched Clarice pull down a large suitcase from the top shelf of her closet and dump it on her old lonely bed.

"Europe." One word and another smile.

"Europe! Now? What's the rush?"

"I booked the flight for tomorrow.  I'll be gone four and a half weeks." Clarice nonchalantly replied, filling the case with jackets, sweaters, pants, long shirts, dresses and underwear. "As of tomorrow, I'm taking my 5 days sick leave as well. I figure I should take it now, I'm not going to get another chance."

"No? What do you mean?" Clarice looked over her shoulder from in front of her near-empty closet. Her eyes softened, almost apologetically.  " Oh shit! You're not quitting? What the hell happened to…"

" I'll come back to you Ardelia, but not the Bureau. I'm taking what I can get before I refuse to give them anymore of my life." Her tone brimmed with conviction. 

Ardelia's dark eyebrows sank on her forehead. "I…I just don't understand."

Clarice offered a sympathetic smile and shrugged. There was little she could do to explain, or rather, little she felt compelled to justify.

"I know you don't. I just need this now. Please don't try to stop me." The room was growing darker as the sun retired for another day. Clarice watched her friend's silhouette retreat down the hallway. She barely heard the whisper.

"I won't."