Oh crap.

I still have dreams about San Antonio. I wake up with the distinct feeling that I am still there, still living on the east side and toiling away in the kitchen Andrew built. I don't cook any more, not professionally. I stick to rice and vegatbles, cold tofu and green onions drenched in soy and ginger, things that Mike likes to eat. I run through math problems, I go to school on cold mornings so that I can learn design process, I don't write any more. Mike and I go to dinner and I eat the dreams of some one else. My own come to me at night in the form of nightmares. I am running up the red stair case, I am awash with guilt, I am ashamed of the person I was in the depths of my adolescent misery. Le Reve is closing. In my waking hours I thought that I would have my graduation dinner there, as a symbol of how far I've come. But there won't be time for that. They'll close their doors and turn down the lights. The stair case will lead you to no where.