( x )
there's a corkboard in their living room with a worn map of the country stretched across it, multi colored pins lovingly and carefully placed across its face. green for honeymoon. yellow for camping with hero. purple along the length of route 66. it's her dreams, each and every one of them, given life with the prick of a pushpin. with the sight of him on top of her still pressed into the back of her eyelids, she rips it all down, leaving nothing but the ragged remains of her hopes and dreams scattered in torn shreds, the stiff pins precariously buried in the carpet like a game of russian roulette. there's one pushpin that stays stuck, resolute and unyielding - the large black one that marks the location of cascara sound, where he lives, the town where she's tracked him down to. and that's all the decision making she needs, to gather up her daughter and what remains of her life and set out for the one place left for her. cascara sound. she's heading home, to a place she's never been.