The local radio station reads obituaries on the news daily—it’s one of the 4,724 reasons I want to escape this town.
This drive to Columbia isn’t, as exciting as first planned. It was to be Hamilton and I in his truck. Today, it’s just me in my old car with a few boxes of clothes and things. The excitement I planned is replaced by fear. I planned to be on my own with one friend on campus; instead, I am responsible for a mini-human growing inside me. I planned to arrive the end of August—instead I’m starting my new life in late July.