Day zero came way too soon.
I was supposed to leave on Saturday afternoon, which meant I stayed in bed way longer than was considered proper or healthy. I woke up in an empty room, since I had to take all of my things away earlier. But even though there was no element of my identity there any longer, it still seemed more like home than my one-hundred-percent-me bedroom in England.
The morning – or what was left of it – passed in a blur. I ate the last meal at that kitchen counter – I say meal because I'm not entirely sure if it was breakfast or lunch or even dinner – and checked the apartment once more to see if I haven't left anything. Right now I was taking with me only my personal luggage, the rest was going to be deposited in England in a few days.
On our way to the airport none of
