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But not out of Vermont. Around Hollow Creek.

I'm thinking. Or so I tell myself.

Mostly, I'm fucking stalling.

I pass residential streets. A grocery store. A restaurant. The gym.

I keep driving.

At some point, I realize I've made a complete circle around town.

Then another.

“This is pathetic.”

I pull into a parking lot and shut off the engine.

My phone comes out again.

Not Instagram this time.

I search: furnished short-term rentals Hollow Creek, Vermont.

Several listings appear.

I stare at them.

No. Absolutely not.

I should leave.

I scroll.

One-bedroom apartment downtown.

Too visible.

Next.

Cabin twenty minutes outside town.

No. I've had enough fucking cabins.

Next.

Furnished house on the edge of Hollow Creek.

Private. Month-to-month. Garage.

I tap it and check it out.

It’s on a quiet road. No close neighbors. Available immediately.

I look through the pictures.

It’s nothing special.

A kitchen. Living room. Two bedrooms. A garage.