Good night, child

My.

That was something.

If someone would be so kind.

I would like some help getting around the city.

As much time as I may enjoy in the library, I cannot stay inside forever.

Looking over this town, it's such a curious thing.

It feels a bit as if we would all be like the Joad family. Leaving our own homes, not by choice, but by forces beyond us, all of us moving, working, trying to find something better.

Taking the homes that others have already left behind, doing our best to make do with them, underneath that boiling shadow of how much we want the old ways back.

No one can fault someone for that want. The change is always abrupt, unwelcome, and to be left behind by it feels quite insulting.

Steinbeck, you really had a grasp for depression, didn't you?

Still, you always made sure to keep a small ray of optimism right at the edge. The chance for change.

Ah, Garcian. One can only wonder where you moved onto now, without me here, and without me now.

All the same, you've moved on. I must go on without your help, and you're more than experienced enough to go through the world without my guidance anymore.

My only disappointment is that I can only move freely in the high school.

At the very least, there is plenty to read.

It seems Samantha decided to leave, while I was sleeping. A shame. She was a wonderful woman.

But I have far more pressing things to attend to. There's always more time later, after all, to catch up with old friends.

The others are gone, too. I'm back on my own. It's just as well - what one can start as a young man, one can do again, as an old man.

One thing might stand in my way, though.

I wonder how much of this city is wheelchair accessible?