"I don't know. Too big, too impersonal, and not enough fried chicken... well not exactly the chicken, but the entire life style, being with family and friends, slowing down, having time for what's important in life," she said, "but I'm glad you like it.
She snorted. "Toast is not cooking, and you can do that at the hotel. You do have your toaster and microwave and fridge. That white thing in the kitchenette area," she teased. "If you need help with anything, though, let me know, okay?"
She shook her head. "That's not what I meant. We don't know how long we're going to be here for: a month, a year, ten years," she said with a shrug. "The point is when you go back, they can help you settle there." The question was unexpected and threw her off. "Good Lord, it's been over three months now. The ninth of November. And I was a physical ed. major. I was planning on opening a school for cheerleaders." That was gone now, and no matter what she had planned, she couldn't imagine going back and doing that, not after all of this, not with her relationship with Marty.