I chewed some gum as I folded the letter away in the white envelope. I remembered writing it:
I'm, uh, going. Like, forever. I can't be bothered with all this crap anymore, I'm moving away. So, bye. I probably won't be back again.
I scrawled "The Zodiacs" on the front and mailed it to Ike as I walked past the postbox. I held my shoulder bag, not very full, as I walked into the subway. I turned my head back to the street as the wind blew the hair into my face, knocking the breath out of me. I shuddered when the old, tatty train pulled up and the creaky doors slid open to me. Climbing into it, I whispered to nobody.