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The building I lived in was old, rusty around the doorknobs, the 14th floor was still half under construction. The week of Thanksgiving would be my last there. I was moving Upstate; the leaves were gone, but I knew I needed a change. I had a flashback to 7 years ago, when I was 19. As I was packing my boxes from my soon-to-be-old apartment, I remembered standing in the middle of the road, staring at that white house. I looked left, then right. To the right of me were the woods, an eerie glow radiated toward me. To the left, the main road, a few house lights, and the sound of a train barreling down the tracks not too far away. Fast forward, and as I locked the rusty lock to my door at 4E, I stood in the hallway, wondering if I really wanted to be on that road again, woods on one end, a train on the other. It felt like that's what I was stuck between, too. By Thanksgiving I'd have a new start, and I'd have no choice but to be on that road, looking right, then left. Hoping that leaving The City behind was the right choice.