She grabs her coat and takes her Prism Duro Sport out of her purse. She puts it on shuffle and begins to head for the door. A man’s voice takes over the mp3 player and she stops dead in her tracks. She begins to reminisce of grilled cheese sandwiches, of someone making her dinner, of fireworks, and of feeling like she was actually loved. She swears she won’t cry, but her eyes begin to defy her.

"He’ll come back," she thinks.

Colder, crying over your shoulder,

Hold her, tell her everything's gonna be fine.

Surely, you've been going too early,

Hurry 'cos no-one's gonna be stopped.

Na na na na...