'It's not goodbye'

Park

He erupted out of his bedroom, then promptly turned around and went back. Keys, change of clothes. He was seventeen, he could just leave.

His mom and dad stood in the kitchen. His mom looked braced for anything, his dad's gaze, soft.

'Breathe'.

'What does that even mean?'

His mom's solution involved food and grooming.

'Go for a shower. I make breakfast'.

He looked down at his clothes, ran an unsteady hand through his black hair.

'Right' he huffed.

He needed to dial it down, to get himself together.

Eleanor

So she'd sent it. Because it wasn't stopping. She wasn't stopping.

She tried writing long letters, short notes. None said what she wanted. How do you tell someone they gave you, you. Well she would have found herself, if she'd survived.

She couldn't find the exact postcard but 10,000 lakes was a thing Minnesota was proud of. There were a few versions.