Weekend Freewrite: The aroma of coffee...

The aroma of coffee wafting through the window woke her. She smiled. Suddenly, she sat up. She had no idea where she was. This was all wrong. The aroma of coffee should have come from down the hallway. It should have been her sweetheart making it for her, in the kitchen. But it was coming through the window, and as she followed her nose to the window, she saw it was coming from a coffee shop just below. She was in a city. She was on the second floor of a building with a coffee shop underneath it, in a city, on a busy street.

She took a deep breath. This had been happening to her lately, she remembered. She was dealing with some trauma that was making it so she didn't want to remember where she was, or why. She knew enough not to panic. She had lost her sweetheart. She lost the home she shared with her sweetheart, with the memories, with the coffee maker. She had taken herself to the city, to the anonymous city with the tall buildings and the shops below the apartments, because she wanted to be anonymous, because she wanted not to be seen.

She had lost him. He wasn't just lost to her, he was gone. And she didn't go, and that didn't seem right, because she didn't know how to go on. So she took herself away from the life they had made together, because it wasn't a life anymore. Most importantly: feel free to change. That was what her therapist told her. So she took the advice and took herself away and moved to the big, bold, anonymous city where no one knew her name except her landlord.

The coffee smelled good. She hadn't been bold enough herself, yet, to leave her apartment. She was having groceries delivered via app, and sitting and staring out the window most days. But today the smell of the coffee was interesting enough to tempt her. She stood up and turned to face the door leading out of the studio apartment. It was so far away. And shoes. She would have to put on shoes. She looked down at her bare feet and realized she was only wearing a t-shirt of his. It wasn't long enough to look like a fashion statement, she didn't think, though she had seem some outfits, in her staring, that she wouldn't have thought would leave an apartment. She wasn't bold enough for that, though.

She looked at her suitcase. Reflect upon the lives you had, but feel free to change. Reflect and change. She took a deep breath and was surprised that her breath was not overtaken by a sob. Her body seemed ready to go and get this coffee, even if her mind wasn't. She walked over to the suitcase and pulled out a wrinkled pair of pants, then slipped them on and tied the drawstring, so much more than she used to have to tie it. She stepped into her sandals, found her purse and that the keys were in it, and opened her door. Feel free to change. She hadn't wanted to change. She hadn't wanted it, but she didn't have a choice. She stepped over her threshold. She locked the door behind her. She couldn't smell the coffee anymore, in the hallway, but she had closed the door to her apartment and locked it, and her keys were already back in her bag. She walked down the hallway, just kept walking.

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Find the first prompt here!