I’m not running.
But she wasn’t staying, either.She was...paused.She was sidelined and waiting for clearance to return to her real life.
This wasn’t her life.This was a placeholder.
The two women were still watching her.One leaned over and whispered something to the other.They both smiled.
She dumped what was left of her coffee into the to-go cup before anyone else could ask her questions or stare at her.
She pushed through the door and back into the humidity.
She stood on the sidewalk and looked down the street.The sun was fully up now.The town was waking up.A truck rumbled past.Someone called out a greeting to someone else.
She should go back to the cottage.She should journal.She should do the things Dr.Smith said would help her reconnect with her authentic self.Whatever that meant.
Instead, she walked toward the water.
The harbor opened up at the end of the street.Boats bobbed in their slips.The smell of fish and diesel fuel mixed together.Pelicans perched on the pier posts.A man in waders was hosing down the deck of a fishing boat.
She stopped at the edge of the wharf.The festival flyer crinkled in her pocket.She pulled it out again and studied it.Studied the poor design, lack of strategy, and the missed opportunities.
This isn’t your problem.
But her fingers were already itching to open her notes app, sketch out a better approach, and fix what was clearly broken.
She took a sip of coffee and watched the boats.The sun warmed her face.
Two months.Sixty days.Eighty-six thousand four hundred minutes of forced stillness while Steve Hodges took over her life.
She couldn’t do it.She couldn’t sit on that balcony and pretend she was fine with being erased.
Then she looked at the festival flyer one more time.
She’d finish her coffee and go back to the cottage.She’d change into something more practical.
Her watch buzzed.Eight-thirty.Time for her scheduled power walk.
She looked down at her wedges and the crushed shell path.The oppressive humidity was currently turning her hair into a science experiment.
A seagull landed on a nearby piling and fixed her with one unblinking eye.She stared back.
“What?”she said aloud.
The bird didn’t answer.It probably had better things to do than judge her life choices.
