WRITING:

The city lights winked by me as I drove down the almost empty freeway. No place to go, nowhere to be. Just me and a million miles of road ahead. Oh, and the hundred thousand dollars I stole from my ex-fiance. The jerk. Yeah. The one with the big fancy car in the big fancy house on the big fancy beach. the one who stood me up at the alter to boink my money-hungry best friend, Dinah. His name is Derek. Derek Grayson III. Maybe I should start from the beginning.

I was born and raised in a small town on the outskirts of Maine. There weren't many kids to play with or much to do, so I spent the majority of my teenage years helping my dad fix cars at his shop.

[on notebook paper I found written by me, God only knows when...]