I walk out of the camping store and put my hand up in the still freezing air.
“At least it’s not raining anymore,” I whisper to myself, wondering if E.J. is already making arrangements to go back home.
I can’t help replaying the fight we had over and over in my head. I feel guilty for what I have said. I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean any of it, but maybe it’s good that I have said all that.
I stick up my hand once more and when no taxi stops I sit down on the curb, opening my bag and pulling out the list.
I slowly run my fingers over number ten. The end. The end of everything. The end of me.
“I’m glad you won’t be there to see it,” I whisper into the paper as if it’s a portal E.J. can hear me through.