I’m not sure when I started considering coming home for a weekend. One minute I was thinking, I don’t have a lot of work this weekend and there’s not much going on, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in my driveway. I’ve been here an hour and I’m already bored. And even if they are irritating and bounce all around when I walk, I still can’t take these damn dorm keys off from around my neck.

Sometime last week I accidentally called my dorm home. I say accidentally because I don’t think I’m the type of person to call my dorm home. But I was walking back from Target with a friend and I referred to the dorm as home. Now I’m actually at home, back in my hometown, and it doesn’t feel like home.

I listen to new music now, and so does my brother. There are new kinds of cereal in the cupboard and we’re out of Ovaltine. My bedroom is empty, my bed’s been unused for weeks, and I’m living out of a track bag on my dresser.