Until I left for college when I was 17, I had this weird tendency to look out the window of my bedroom at the parking lot of the movie store across the street from our house, to see if the store was closed yet. Of course, it closed at the same time every night. I liked seeing the lights on, the people walking in from their cars, imagining them walking around inside, smelling the greasy popcorn popped in a machine in the store, picking a movie, maybe quickly, maybe after a long debate. I loved the idea of people moving around in the world outside, especially when things inside felt desperate and awful. As long as there was movement, I was not alone.