10
HARPER
Jet lag was killing me. It did every time, and I had yet to find a way to make it better. I barely made it through the last lectures of the term and the staff meetings, and that was before I left. Now in the UK, I turned down the polite offers of dinner to instead return to my hotel room to sleep. I came to England about three times a year and stayed at the same quaint place, met with the same professors in the art history department. It was familiar. The faces were familiar, and I considered many to be friends. Lately, London was a safe haven. I was an ocean away from Cam, from my life. I could take a break from it, compartmentalize it all in my head and let it go, knowing it was so far away.
I was safe in England. I felt safe, like I was a different person. I’d been coaxed a
