Opening the door to the bungalow, a packed suitcase greets you. He emerges from the bedroom with another suitcase and a duffle bag. You're crying about the encounter with Robbie and just want to talk.

He says, "I'm leaving you" -- stoically. Unmoving. You stand here, shaking. The blood drains from your head to your feet, leaving you feeling faint.

Why me?
        Why now?
                Why this?
                                                                                                                What did I do?
                                                                                                  What did I not do?
                                                                                       What is happening?

These questions point to no answers as he walks out the door, leaving you behind.

*40 minutes later*

You are sitting on the couch leafing through your journal. Throughout the years, you've collected quotes-- a lot from your time in graduate school back in Wisconsin. You come across Barthes's "Work to Text" excerpt. You scribbled something about texts, how they are experienced, evolving, indeterminate. You think about your current situation. It's just another chunk of text, another chapter in your life-- your work. A work is fixed. You equate this to life...things happen as they are supposed to, right?

*20 minutes later*

Disbelief has taken over. You go for a walk to clear your mind, to let it all go. A man on the street asks directions to the airport {IN ENGLISH} and you point him in the right direction, desperately wishing to follow his lead.