Chapter One-The Move/The New Neighbor

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As most of my readers know, I write to help with my anxiety. I have some things going on in my personal life. Nothing terrible, just changes at work and a couple of other things. I need to get things out for me. However, updates may be slow.

I have gotten to the point where I work on whatever book pops in my head when I wake up or whatever I dream about the night before. This being the reason they may be slow. My moods also depend on what I write. Some moods just can't write certain things in certain moods. Please be patient with me. They will be complete. Just slowly.


(DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction unless otherwise stated. I do not own the rights to images in this story. This story also has no bearing on the real lives of anyone in this story. Again, it's all fiction. No character changes will be made.)

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~~Luka's point of view~~

~~Phone conversation~~

Luka: "What the fuck do you want?"

Camilla: "I want you to come home."

Luka: "I am home. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that we're over."

Camilla: "You know that I love you."

Luka: "I don't, and never did love you."

Camilla: "Don't say that."

~~End conversation~~

I don't have the energy to listen to her beg anymore. That's why I have made the decision to move. I have lived in Utah all my life. It's time for a change. I'll miss the mountain and trails; what I won't miss is Camilla. We weren't even together. She was just a hit it and forget it. I had just gotten out of a long-term relationship with my high school sweetheart when I met her. She was all up on me in a bar, and I was more than willing.

I am moving to a small town in Tennessee. My best friend lives there and loves it. He went to Nashville to look at a bike and met a girl. They married three months later. Now they have been married for four years and have a three-year-old. The name of the town is called Sparta. He said its cow fields and cornrows. They have a Walmart and restaurants. At this moment, it sounds like a great fucking idea.

I ended things with Camilla when I found out she was putting holes in the condoms to try to trap me. What I can't figure out is why. I don't have money. I have money; I am not a bum. I am not rich. I budget money well I don't need a lot. I finish packing my stuff, load it in the back of my truck, and set the trailer. I load my motorcycle into the trailer, and I set out on my twenty-five-hour drive.

At the halfway mark, I stop and get a room. I didn't get much sleep; my phone wouldn't stop ringing; I got up and threw it in the pool; I'll get a new one. After a few hours of sleep, I get back on the road. I stop twice. I just want to get there and leave my old life behind. There is nothing there for me anymore. I can't think about that right now. I can't let myself go there while driving.

I turn the radio on and keep moving. I pull up at the house I rented at four pm central standard time. 

 

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