Sam was going to leave. Sam wanted to leave. Sam had decided to leave. Not one of those slow, creeping realisations, but an actual big, hard no-backing-out decision. She'd drawn the line in the sand, she'd made up her mind, she'd written it in her diary, and yes, the diary in question contained only one entry and that was it, but it was the thought that counted.

Going. Definitely going. Going going going.