Re: Call: Eloise/Gabriel
There's a motorway, and I can't see any of those dreadful hotels. [She begins counting, one, two, three, all the way up to ten.] That's how many trucks there are, and they're all here for petrol. My feet bleed, and I can't walk back the way I came, and the butterfly will be there upon the door. Perhaps she will become me, and I will become nothing.