Car broken into

The morning after goth-night, I went out to my car and found the rear passenger window shattered over the sidewalk and the seat inside. My friend Miguel's bag had been stolen, as had mine, and both of the duffel bags with my clothes were also gone. Goodbye underwear, t-shirts, sweatshirts, winter jacket, hairbrush, deodorant, all of that stuff. Luckily, though, they had left the massive suitcase with all my pretty dresses, and I am lazy enough that most of my skirts were lying around my car since I'd never bothered to put them away.

The idiot who broke into my car overlooked my laptop, camera, GPS, and CDs. It was amazing, really. And he left Miguel's walking stick, which made Miguel very happy. "Everything I owned was in that bag," he said. And now it's gone forever.

I drove out of San Francisco as fast as the speed limit would allow me, wind whipping in through the glass-less back window.