Five days later:
New York felt quieter. It now felt as if the city had learned how to lower its voice around her. She needed the quiet hum of the city. Lately, her memory has been so loud.
Amara walked with her hands wrapped around a paper cup. The cardboard was warm against her palms.
The coffee shop was three blocks behind her now, the bell above its door still faintly echoing in her ears. She hadn't even finished the drink.
She rarely did now. It was the ritual she needed more than the caffeine. She needed the act of ordering something familiar, sitting by a window, and pretending she was just another woman killing time between errands.
Taking coffees made her feel normal.
She'd chosen a smaller place this morning. There was no glass walls, no giant signage, and no clusters of people hovering with phones out.
Thwre was just wood tables around, and a cracked mirror behind the counter. A barista who didn't recognize her…. or if he did, didn't let it show.
