So, where do I start?

My name is Kimber Dawn Johnson. Married once, divorced once. I've kept his name. I am now 29 years old.

For as long as I can remember, life has always been a little different for me. I don't remember my childhood And with good reason I suppose. But all of that is over; for now at least it seems. I'm grateful for that in so many ways. Life really began for me when I moved in with my mother. I am adopted. I got my first tattoo when I got all A's in school. Mom didn't like it, but she did make a promise and kept it That's one of the things I love about her. She's a brilliant woman. She knows a lot about the human psyche, well read, and knows more things than I ever could. As far as I know, I have no brothers or sisters making me an only child.

I've been here before. I've lived here before, and I've loved here before. Somehow I think this time could be different.

Before stepping off the old stairs of the diesel fueled bus, Kimber shut her eyes lightly and drew in a deep, deliberate breath. 'Home' she thought to herself.
Yes, this was her home as it was so many years ago and the day she up and left was something that needed to be done. She was too far in, too deep, it was getting dangerous. But there was something that pulled her back; Kimber needed closure.
While scanning the streets of the city, she bit her bottom lip and squinted. The setting sun was shining brightly in her eyes and her sunglasses were in her bag tucked neatly inside the womb of the bus. She gave her lips a quick lick and gingerly, calculatingly took those final steps off the bus.She knew she would come home one day - knew it with her whole heart, but something inside of her always told her to stay away.
It didn't take long for her to get her duffel bag with her belongings, she knew how to travel as she had been traveling the world. After a whirling romance with her ex-husband, they had married. He'd stuck it rich after his father died and then everything changed. He began to drink endlessly, wine and dine other women and his drug of choice was crack. That was simply not a life for her to live. Rich or not.

Quietly she left that book on the dusted shelf and made her way to the dorms. A friend of hers whom she's kept in contact with had promised her a couch to sleep on. They keys, as promised were left for her. Dropping her bag off in the room she left for the day. If only to discover what secrets these streets could tell her once more.

"I knew you'd be back..." He said.