And I feel like there's nothing left to do, but prove myself to you...
I ran around my hotel room, desperately searching for anthing of mine. My phone, my clothes, my make-up, and anything else that I'd bought with me. As I found my each of my posessions, I frantically stuffed each of them into my suitcase. I'd got the call 5 minutes ago, just as I'd poured myself a drink. The glass was now smashed on the floor, leaking it's contents onto the perfectially white carpet.
Why white? I thought to myself. I mean seriously, white for a carpet?
I fell through the door into the bathroom, still on a frantic search for my stuff. Grabbing them, I hurried into the bedroom. I threw them into my suitcase and slammed the lid shut. Snatching up my handbag I saved for special occasions, I wheeled my suitcase out of my hotel room door.
I waited outside for the taxi that the hotel Reception had called for me. Sitting on my suitcase, I ran through the list in my head of things that I now needed to do. Exchange my ticket home on a plane next week for one that left now, call my sister and James, cancel my shoots, hire a car when I got to New York and change out of this dress and these damn heels.
I arrived in New York, unfortunately dressed to the T and exhausted after an 8 hour flight. I collected my luggage, and made my way to the entrance of the airport. Even at 7:34 in the morning, this place is as busy as ever.
Within 20 mintues I was in my hired car and speeding down the freeway home. Home to possible devistation. Home to sadness. Home to New Jersey.