I locked my frozen hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling. Chris scrunched next to me. "What're you thinking, Clu?"Exactly four thoughts were bouncing through my brain at that moment. Does our super still get erections? I put too much oregano in the lasagna tonight. Who actually does Angie Dickinson's hair? And -- how am I going to survive...Grit? "I'm a little weirded out about going home"."It'll be okay. We have each other"."You have no idea how...country it is"."We'll wear overalls - make jam, grow a garden. It'll be something new".Yes, but how would we ever survive in all that Baptist-bliss? My family was one thing: they're beyond recovery. But the town?"What?" Chris looked at me."It's this...ditty...my grandmother used to sing when we were driving home from the grocery store, or somewhere. She was always singing hymns or something silly".Chris yawned and stretched his arms under the covers. "It's going to be fine,,you'll see. Better than you think...stop worrying".Within a minute Chris was out, snoring beside my pillow.