After a night in a small hotel, she moved into a small rented place the next morning, near her office, signing a short lease. The landlord asked, “Just you?” She nodded. Carrying boxes alone, she told herself it was temporary, that space would help her think. The door closed softly behind her, sealing the quiet she hadn’t chosen.
It was quiet, sparse, and affordable, the kind of place that echoed footsteps. No photographs on the walls, no shared furniture. She said aloud, “This is fine,” testing the words. Silence answered back. The simplicity calmed her briefly before the loneliness crept in.