I woke up at dawn the day left. Everyone would still beasleep for a few hours, and the air had taken on that clean still quality that comes with being the only person up early in the morning. My room, usually so messy, was clean, if only for the fact that most of my belongings were packed away. Two heavy suitcases stood at the foot of my bed. I padded downstairs to grab a Coke from the fridge, careful not to be too loud. Crisp light streamed in through the windows, and I could see the kitchen, the way papers and books were piled up on the table. I couldn’t see the living room, but Chester’s heavy bulldog snores drifted up towards me and reassured me of his presence on the couch, curled up and dozing before the switched-off TV. When it was time to leave, I dragged my suitcases downstairs, pushed them into the trunk of the car. It was light outside, but the sun drifted behind the clouds every so often. The house sat behind me, its red bricks heavy and solid. No one was outside right then. The wind ruffled the American flag hanging near the front door, and I shivered as I got into the car. Soon the house melted into the other houses behind me.