Swiftly, her planet tilted. Her mother had called to say her parents had put an offer down on a house in Arlington. That was completely out of the blue. The last time the subject of moving had come up, her father had yelled at the family, vowing to die where he was born.

Deus ex machina, you're makin' it messy.

The news of pending parental upheaval may have been easier to take, had not this been the day when she had realized the magnitude of the changes she had quickly and efficiently made. Badda-bing, badda-boom. Sell a condo, change your life. And then your parents are moving thirty miles farther north than they already were.

She sniffed and cleared her throat. How weird that yesterday, after hours of fruitless apartment searching and then finally finding something, her soul had been happy without being giddy. The phone messages she left for her sister and her friends ("I found the perfect place!") were so upbeat.

And now to feel so hollow as it dawns on her that she's scared of this thing she's done. These things are the things she thinks about in a swirl: 'is it worth the money, will I be scared, why did I move so far away, what if something happens (no definition for 'something'), what if I am lonely, I'm lonely now, where will the bike go, wouldn't I do these same things no matter where I lived, wouldn't I read, watch movies, eat random refrigerator selections?' She thinks the thoughts as if they are vapors rising to the ceiling of her consciousness. They are real, but they are transparent; they are constructs; they are heavy. They are painful at a deep level. No one can see them.

The move would be upon her sooner than she thought - but this is where she shines. She can organize anything and too often does. It would go like the same kind of clockwork these ventures always did for her.

How did this all turn on a dime?