I was seventeen seconds from running.  My bags are packed, and I could have them in the car, in 12 seconds.  5 then to get the car started.  I could have left, but I stayed because, well, where would I go?  I'm dying here...cramped into a small world when I need space.  I need to be able to move, to get up and go, to write and compose, to imagine and dream.  Maybe in a few weeks.