A layer of dust washes over me. Sputtering, I tape the final corner of the last box I will ship from New York to my new life in the southwest. I stand up to stretch out my lower back, and the smell of my body odor wilts the stale air around me. I take a moment to look around at the freshly bare walls; my whole life is now packed within three suitcases and a small crowd of cardboard boxes. Funny how just a few hours of tearing down decorations and folding clothes has turned my home into a room I once knew. The only thing left to remind me of my time spent here is a small teal mirror, which poignantly reflects my weary appearance back to me. But, even as I stand heavy with the duality of nostalgia and exhaustion, I can’t help but smile at the memory of one of my first days in the city- the last time these walls were bare. ~ I am gripping the steering wheel of a U-Haul. My knuckles are both the center of my universe and the singular force keeping my nerves in order. Yesterday, I ...