Zara
My first full day in the apartment is absolutely perfect.
The space doesn’t echo the way the house did, doesn’t stretch into something too large for me to fill, doesn’t leave me listening for footsteps that never come. I stand in the middle of the room with the window cracked open just enough to let the city breathe in, and I realize that quiet can feel different depending on who it belongs to.
This one is mine.
The paint that I bought is cheap, the kind that comes in small tins with labels that promise smooth finishes and flawless coverage that I already know I won’t get, and still I open it with something close to anticipation. I chose a beautiful soft yellow, like a sunrise through mist, and I already love it.
I brush the color across the wall, and I find myself smiling withou
