We've been in Vegas a little over a week. I haven't left the motel room, I don't want to. I don't want to think about what kind of people are out there. How many of those people are like my dad and abandoned their families? How many are here because they're lost and are trying to rebuild? How many are here celebrating? How many are like me and just want to go home?
I lose my train of thought as Alex comes in the door. He gives me a disappointed glare.
"You're going to get bedsores, you've barely moved this week. Come on," He tosses his jacket at my feet.
"We have new people next door," I chuckle, trying to ignore his bedsores comment, "I think it's newlyweds, the bed hitting the wall was starting to give me a headache."
"Jules, we leave day after tomorrow, if you don't get out of that
