"Oh shiii-" I hissed through my teeth as the pile of blankets I was tugging on caught the edge of my toolbox and brought it crashing down from the top shelf.

I winced at the sound of tools and odd bits of hardware clattering across the floor.

At least the heavy thing didn't fall on my foot. Even so, I was already feeling frustrated and this certainly didn't help things.

There's no way around it. Packing sucks. And packing by yourself when you'd been counting on help is even worse.

The blankets came unfolded. I dropped them unceremoniously on the ground and turned away from the closet. I walked over to the couch, stubbing my toe on an errant hammer in the process, and sat down, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes to keep from crying.

I wasn't upset about the mess, I realized. Rather, I was still angry because of the fight I had with Michonne that morning.

For a best friend, she really drives me crazy. I try to understand her, really I do, but some days it's downright impossible. Sometimes I'm amazed that we've stayed friends as long as we have.

"So, you're really doing this," she said by way of greeting when I walked through the door this morning, awkwardly lugging a stack of cardboard boxes.

"Yes, Michonne," I said, "I told you I was doing this."

She gave me one of her signature 'I can't believe this shit' glares and spun on her heel.

"Stop!" I stopped her in her tracks. It was rare for me to speak so sharply towards her, but I'd had enough.

"What, exactly, is it you want from me?" I demanded.

Michonne turned back around, watching me with a guarded expression.

"What do you want me to do? Live here forever, you, me, and Andre? And then what? We grow old together and that's it?" I demanded, dropping the boxes to the floor and walking across the room towards her.

Michonne sighed and looked at the ground in frustration, but didn't say anything.

"I know you don't like Philip. You've never liked him. What has he ever done to you?! What is the huge problem?!" I yelled, releasing all the anger that I'd let build up over the past few weeks.

I glared at Michonne, waiting for her to answer me.

"I don't trust him," she stated, as if it was as simple as that.

Now it was my turn to let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Yes, I know that. But I'm asking you why," I said.

"I have a bad feeling. He's not what he seems. He's hiding something, Andrea. I can't believe you can't see that," Michonne declared.

"And I'm just supposed to trust your gut?" I challenged her.

"Yes," she said firmly, "It's gotten us this far."

"But what about my feelings? What about what I want? I wouldn't be with him if I didn't think he was good, Meesh," I used her nickname, trying at the last moment to soften my words.

There's no way I can win by fighting her head-on. The only way to fix this is to convince her, but I don't know how to do that.

We've had many versions of the same argument and she still can't pinpoint exactly why she doesn't trust him. One day it's something fishy about his company's trucks, then it's something he said a month ago that doesn't quite add up. Last week it was that he smiled too much.

Michonne put her hand on my arm, reminding me of how it used to be, before there was this icy wall between us.

"Wait," she pleaded, "You don't have to go. Just wait a few more days."

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. What had I been expecting anyway?

"Do you hear yourself right now? A few more days and then what, we have this same argument again? You are being unreasonable," I said.

I watched her expression go cold and I knew we weren't ever going to see eye to eye on this. It was as simple as that.

"I care about him. A lot. And I'm going to be with him and everything is going to be fine. And if it's not, then I'll leave. I'm going to Woodbury, not Outer Mongolia," I said definitively, "I can take care of myself, really."

After a long pause, Michonne spoke again.

"Fine. If that's what you want," she said. Her voice was emotionless, which was somehow worse than when she was angry.

She grabbed her jacket and her keys and left without another word. I started packing my things, bitterly hoping to be done before she came back.

Now I sat on the couch looking at my half-packed boxes. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Feeling calmer, I went and knelt beside my overturned tool box. I flipped it over and gathered up the spilled tools.

It's not fair to resent her so much, I reminded myself. There's a reason that she is how she is. I know precious little of her story, but I know this much; a broken heart can cause damage that takes years to heal.

And besides her inability to get along with my boyfriend, it's not like Michonne has been a bad friend to me. She's always there for me when I need her most.

When I came down with the flu during midterms week and could only sit up long enough to puke in the trash can she put beside my bed, Michonne finished writing my paper for me and turned it in on time. Granted, the paper got a 'C' and some interesting comments from my professor, but it allowed me to pass the class and graduate before my loans ran out.

Whenever I got discouraged, she was there to remind me that law school was my dream. She took care of things around the apartment so I could focus on studying and I watched Andre whenever she couldn't.

Our life had a peaceful rhythm to it. I think Michonne was happy with how things were and didn't want it to change.

I have to admit, I'm going to miss it too. All those afternoons spent sitting at the kitchen table with my books and a big coffee mug, little Andre running over every so often to show me his latest crayon masterpiece, Michonne's music playing quietly while she worked on her computer.

As dusk settled outside the windows and I finished up packing, I felt the sting of our argument fade from my mind.

I've got something good going with Phillip and I'm not going to blow my chance at happiness. Moving in with him is a big step, but sometimes you have to take a risk for something good to happen.

I'm going to live happily with Phillip. One day Michonne will meet a man who will make her forget all about her loser ex. We'll be friends again. It might take a while, but everything is going to work out for the best.

*bzzz*bzzz*bzzz*

I glanced at my phone and smiled when I saw who it was.

I tapped the answer icon and said in a teasing voice, "Took you long enough!"

"Hey now, that's not fair," his deep Southern drawl filled my ear and I realized how much I missed him, "I was not prepared for this amount of traffic, but I'm here now."

I laughed because he said the same thing every time he came to visit me in the city. He was a country boy at heart.

"I brought the pick-up. Do you want me to come up and help?" he asked.

What he really meant was: is it safe for me to show my face? Phillip was never one to step down from a challenge, but for my sake he tried to avoid any more confrontations with Michonne, which translated into avoiding Michonne.

Those two couldn't pretend to like each other if their lives depended on it.

"Yeah, come on up and help me with these boxes," I told him.

Together, we made quick work of the task at hand. It went much more smoothly than packing had.

"I think this is the last of it," Phillip stood by the door, holding a box full of clothes and shoes.

"You go on ahead. I'm going to take one more sweep to see if I forgot anything and meet you down there," I said.

"Alright. Take your time," he said, and I stood on my toes to give him a kiss.

I walked slowly through the small apartment, checking that everything I saw belonged to either Michonne or Andre.

My room was bare and so were my shelves in the living room. I picked up a couple of Andre's toy trucks and tossed them back in their basket. I couldn't remember which of the kitchen things had been mine or Michonne's, so I left most of them.

As I walked around the kitchen table one last time, my foot bumped something metallic. I crouched down and reached back behind a chair to see what it was.

A pair of pliers.

They must have ended up here when the toolbox fell. I stood up and slid the pliers into my back pocket.

I took one last glance around the place I'd spent the past eight months and said in a soft voice, "Goodbye."

I turned off the light and locked the door behind me. Downstairs, I stopped at the wall of mailboxes for out apartment stack. I entered the combination to our tiny mailbox, dropped my key inside, and closed it again.

After a moment, I got out my phone and composed a short text message.

'Left my key in the mailbox. I'm sorry I yelled earlier. Take care of yourself and the little guy.'

As far as apologies go, I know it was a little lame, but it was all I could summon. Everything I said to Michonne had been the truth. Still, I didn't want it to feel like I was saying 'Goodbye' forever.

I added, 'I'll call in a few days,' and decided that would have to do. I tapped Send and looked up from my phone to see Phillip smile and wave at me from the cab of the truck.

It's time to start a new adventure!