This broken language made of film

The posters are starting to come off the walls. My legendary Shadow is now a two-line oversimplification in the Courier's automotive classifieds. The fridge is growing bare, without groceries being replaced. Clothes have begun to spill from the cardboard box marked 'Goodwill'. And by the time this milk has expired, Findlay will have long been on its way to becoming another fond memory.

In eating upwards of thirty million boxes of cereal during my stay in Findlay, I've seen the expiration dates pass on each half gallon of whole milk that followed each box. Two more milks until Spring Break with Erynn. Another milk to summer break. Three milks to an internship in Japan. Two more until graduation. And now, I'm finally on my last one. When this milk has expired, it'll be Christmas, and I'll finally be home with my family.

Life, to now, has moved in chunks of 10 days. From here, I don't know anymore.