No. She will stay here in her hotel room in Duluth and keep this vague promise that she has made to London (though now she’s not even sure that she’s actually made one in the first place, but just trusting her intuition). She is tired of doing the right thing all the time. She is tired of living a life without adventure. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel this way if she had never known anything different, if she had lived the staid and quiet life in Thunder Bay the way she was supposed to, the way her family thinks she did. She doesn’t know what they think of her now, but she does know that there are quite a few things they would be surprised to discover about her, things she keeps in her heart like a song that only she knows the words to, that she can hum to herself when things get difficult, when she can’t remember someone’s name or how to use the telephone, when she is feeling lost or hopeless or stupid. These are the memories that she is most terrified of losing. The memories she has no photos of, the memories that are her only connection to the brave and wonderful person she used to be – the person who sang onstage with the house band at a jazz club in Paris because their front woman was too drunk to perform, the person who climbed Mount McKay in a party dress, the person who jumped the fence at the airport to lie underneath a plane as it took off. If she loses them, there will be no one who can remind her of what she’s lost, and that brave and wonderful person will be gone forever.

7:31. Has London been gone too long already? Should she go look for her? She changes the channel again, and something catches her eye. Video footage of a waterfall with something going over it. A barrel. A barrel going over Kakabeka Falls.