Her fingers gripped the knob, and she yanked the door open and allowed the morning sunlight to pour into the room. She swung her bag over her shoulder and stepped into the day. The streets shimmered with leftover rain from the previous night’s downpour. She flipped her sunglasses over her eyes and turned towards the newsstand, a small skip in her step. She looked at the cracks in the sidewalk and remembered the game she used to play with her sister. Before she knew it, her feet skirted around the broken squares of concrete in front of her. A smile touched her lips as she turned her attention to the sky.
A women with a babyblue stroller swerved around her as she noticed the birds gathering in the street near the popcorn vender. Up and down they would take off and land as the cars went by then stopped at the light. She bent down to pet Mrs. Anderson’s little pug when she got to the first stoop. A quick beep and a honk of a horn let the driver at the front of the line know the light had changed, as a slight breeze burst around the corner of her building swooshing her hair around her face blinding her for a moment.
Cotton ball clouds shifted on the breeze, pushing away the gray rainy past. The simple blue, so bright she had to squint through her glasses, reminded her of summer mornings with her father fixing fences and feeding chickens. That was so far from where she stood, where her feet propelled her to on this bright April morning. In her reverie, she almost collided with a grim-faced man in a dark gray business suit. He scowled as he scooted around her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was how she looked on other, more serious mornings when all that mattered was getting to work on time.
She gazed into the windows of the local coffee shop newly reopened by a duo of young “hipster” types that looked fresh out of college. The rich blend of roasted beans and freshly baked pastry treats made her feel comfortable and nostalgic inside. Smiling she waved coyly as she redirected her attention to the newspaper box at the end of the row. Scrounging her fingertips around the corners of her clutch she produced a small handful of coins and popped them into the coin slot listening to them roll and tinker their way to the bottom of the box waiting for the click of the door trigger.
(Co-written by The Clocktower Sunset. We switched off, every other paragraph. I began.)