Rows of white houses, brown fences, green grasses, pink flamingos, it's the soothing similarities of suburban life! Absorbing this most welcomed sight, you come to recognize the oversized territory as familiar Juneberry Parks, a broad maze of homes just a short walk from the college. You nearly faint once more from the relief of it all. For the first time today, something seems to be going your way!
You move slowly forward, bringing the numbers on a towering mailbox into focus. "Twenty-one," you read, "yes. Yes! That means," you stop to think carefully. You know where you are. You still don't know how you got here, but being here is good enough. "If I can," you consider an option closely, "she lives at twenty-three. It's so close!" Excitement drives your heart to beat against a broken rib, dragging you rest on the bed of grass.
You take this opportunity to brush off your clothes with the rough texture of the plant fiber, cleaning yourself up rather well as you ramble on, "Serenity lives just down the road. It's just two houses over, nothing bad could happen, not here, nothing happens here, I'll be fine." A shriek bursts forth from above you, a whipping of air rumbles, and staring to the top of the post, a mighty bird flaps its wings and comes to rest, reshuffling its feet several times before flying off into the sky with another shrill whistle.
"A-alright," you stutter, "maybe I shouldn't risk it."
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