You leave yesterday behind, not entirely by accident on purpose. You take a good last look around and run as fast as you can toward tomorrow, looking back once or twice to make sure you aren't being followed. You take sharp, blind corners that go nowhere.  You hide from ghosts and run into brick walls that are everywhere. You laugh when you should be crying and fall where you are expected to stand. You can't breathe. You have to run. She is waiting for you. You push her down and keep going. You wait for air. You find yourself lost, on a pink couch, counting on a freezer.