"Killing you is like killing myself. But, you know, I'm pretty tired of both of us." -Arthur Bannister, The Lady from Shanghai (1947) She was the perfect little girl. She thought she did everything right. She didn't know how it had come to this. How all the little things had brought her to this. She couldn't believe it was over, even though she was the one who had said it. She believed that home was where the heart was. Home defines us. But what if home doesn't feel like home anymore? What if it stops welcoming you in? What if it stops being warm and fuzzy and home ? Everything was fine at home. Because it wasn't home anymore. So it didn't matter whether she stayed or left. She could offer them better space by leaving. So she left. But she never left home.