After I dressed, I went downstairs, calling for the young woman that I so desperately wanted, but was determined not to pursue. There was no answer. Back upstairs I peeked into her room without results. Where the hell was she, I wondered. Had she left the house feeling unfulfilled? I hadn't looked to see if she'd packed her things, but did it matter? Did she decide to go back to Utah, or where ever the hell she left her previous life? Was our relationship as tenuous as I thought before we met at the airport? I went back to my room to look for clues and realized my hard plastic...