I spent the first week of summer so encapsulated by Zadie Smith, that I had become completely lost to the world. In fact, I did nothing but sit at home watching Jim Jarmusch films and eat Pop Tarts until my stash finally ran out and the grocery store was starting to look like a better prospect than watching that ex Sonic Youth star Richard Edson on my flat screen.

I checked my phone before leaving the house, there were hundreds of texts from my best friend, trying to lure me out of my house, into the sunshine…to pool parties and shopping trips to the mall as if we were in Valley Girl and Nicholas Cage was going to jump out at any minute and do some ninja moves if we didn’t giggle and toss our perfectly feathered hair.

My phone vibrated…Mara, where are you? The text read.

Are we ever really anywhere? I texted back. As I got in my car, it vibrated again.

Huh? She replied.

I threw the phone into the backseat and pulled out. I was in need of sugary breakfast squares.