Stronger than Me
SIENNA
The breeze on the rooftop was balmy.
Summer in Washington, D.C. was slightly milder than New York’s, a little cooler. Still, humid air hugged my body like a second skin, and as wind floated gently across my neckline, I swear I could smell the nearby ocean. I swear it.
We were forty miles from the Chesapeake Bay, and it was still as if I could smell the beach, feel the sand between my toes, strolling down the sidewalk of the bay on a trip I would never take.
New York awaited me. And for the first time since… forever, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to go. The City had always been home, in one way or another, but now it felt more like a trap, a vacuum suck from which there was no escape, pulling me back every time I seemed to get away.
And yet I was going back. Return
