I left this place. It is too crowded, too full of stuff that is supposed to matter but doesn’t. And so I go, go somewhere that I was rarely invited to, to a ghost place. A hotel that you stayed for glimpses at a time. I don’t know why I go here. I never knew why this place drew me in. Maybe because of you. Maybe it smells of home. I guess there was more than harsh thoughts of you, because I am here now. And I can breathe. Maybe this is home enough for me.