It was October, maybe early November, I don't remember too well. My face was plastered to the ground, my eyes shut, my breath backfired on my face. The sting of gravel digging in my flesh brought me to conciousness, and I sluggishly pulled myself up. It was dusk and I was surrounded by an abandoned parking lot.

My first thought was, "Where is she?" I skimmed the horizon for a beacon of recognition, something that looked familiar. She had insisted we move to this town, some suburb in the Americas, to be closer to her family, and after 6 months, I still didn't know my way about. These damned Americans did everything backwards so it was hard to adjust. The neon glow of restaurant signs not far off lured me in with hopes of finding a telephone and maybe a restroom to survey the damage done to myself. I don't even remember if it had been a hard fall, I just know that my body ached and my clothes were torn.

"Where are you Bobbie?" I whispered to myself as I lugged towards civilization.