Curled up on her single bed, Diana has her back propped up against the wall with a pillow, and her laptop in her lap. The browser is open to gmail, and she begins to type.

Subject: Summer Nights

Things are still going well. I’ve done some research at the local library here, but I’d like to get a more permanent place set up before I start buying too many books of my own. I didn’t bring any with me down from NYC and I’m really missing my collection. Especially the ones that were gifts from you guys.

I haven’t managed to meet with the woman who owns the theatre yet, but maybe at our monthly meeting this month. Progress is a bit slower than I’d like. I think I’ve got a great start though. I wish you were here to help me out. I’ll send along a copy though in case you have time.

I have somebody who wants to see my work. He says he’s going to help me see it through to production. I’m so pleased to have made an ally like that right away. I hope your opportunities are as fruitful. I’ve been really enjoying the emails I’ve gotten from you guys.

I miss you. Especially you, Mom.

With love,

Diana.

Hitting send, she looks across her bare bedroom to her dresser, the only other piece of furniture in this temporary haven. On the top, there is a framed photo of Diana with her birth family, and another framed photo of Diana and a woman who shows up a bit blurred. At the time, she’d attributed the bad quality of the photo to the fact that they had been moving around, now she knew better.

Stella, you should have come with me.

A bloody tear streaks its way down her cheek, and as she closes her laptop with one hand, she wipes her face with the other. It was time to begin an independent life, and she needed to get used to the idea that it would just be her for a while.