Double Knots

Three hours of spending was enough. Petra needed a break. Rather than sinking into the couch to enter a fantasy land, full of tan skin and incessant fist-pumping, she decided to go on a run.

Petra's running shoes were wedged in between her clogs and slide-on sandals. She wiped the dust off of the laces, reminiscing on her days in high-school when she ran track. While the sneakers were the only thing in Petra's closet that were outdated, they reminded her of a happier life. Despite the fact that her upbringing wasn't the purest, running evoked a sense of self that Petra needed.

Each shoe was tied the same way: two knots per shoe, one done at a time. Petra stretched her calf muscles, flexing each shoe into the wall. The pressure felt like home. 

Petra quickly made it out of her building and started to run. Her legs felt like jello. Her knees were shaking, but after rounding the corner, her pace got smoother. She felt at ease in her running shoes. Petra didn't realize how much she missed the hard pavement hitting her feet.

Her mind stopped moving. Her feet splashed through a puddle. The fluidity of running gave her a new sense of direction. Finally, she regained the confidence she had before the fire. Maybe I'll open my own clothing store, Petra thought to herself. She still had money left over from the manilla envelope.

After an hour past, Petra began to head home. Something caught her eye. The stare. She saw the bearded man across the street reading today's newspaper. What struck Petra wasn't the man, but the newspaper its self. She could make out the words "DETECTIVE DEAD: RULED HOMICIDE" from across the street.

The image of death brought back thoughts of the smoke. The burning flames. Petra stood still. She accepted the past, but moved forward. As she looked up, the man was once again staring at Petra. She didn't fumble or trip this time. Instead, she waved. She nodded hello to the man as a huge grin spread across her face.

She looked down at her shoes, took one final glance at the paper, and ran home.

Lost Change

The birds woke Petra up. The incessant chirping and knocking on her windows gave her headache. On top of this, she had a nightmare about New York at three in the morning. She needed to clear her head.

Petra loosened her grip on the sheets, slowly, leaving little crinkles at the top. She rolled over until her feet touched the ground. It was barely seven and rays of light creeped through her windows, leaving streaks of light on her floor.

She needed breakfast. The coffee maker hummed as tiny drips inched out, plopping into the pot. She downed two mugs, burning her tongue with each sip. She dealt with the pain. The idea of leaving her home and moving to New York gave her knots in her stomach.

As much as she loved the idea of moving, her common sense thought other wise. Petra took the nightmare as a sign to leave her suitcases in the closet. She needed to be grounded. And yoga wasn't working.

Today was a day for online shopping. Petra slid into her favorite black jeans and loose fitting tanktop, grabbed the manilla envelope and headed out the door.

The coffee made her arms shake. She sped up her pace to the ATM machine around the corner. She carefully opened the envelope, watching for any bills that might fall to the pavement.

As the machine beeped, Petra inserted the bills one by one into the feed. With each greasy piece of paper, the tension she held in her shoulders went away. She wasn't quite sure what this tension was from, but it was gone.

A tall man with a thick brown beard behind her began to grumble. Petra ignored him, keeping her slow and steady rhythm of watching her bank account grow.

Petra grabbed her ATM card and nearly ran into the bearded man standing behind her. His eyes made her lose her footing, as she stumbled left down the gum-covered sidewalk. He kept is stare all the way down the block.

Now that her bank account was full, Petra could delve into a materialistic online world. As she unlocked her apartment door, her home felt more vibrant and unusually optimistic. It was time for Petra to begin anew, one dollar at a tame.