The wind at dawn shakes trees bare and brings smells of salty ocean.
A woman and her dog step out onto the front yard. The dog yelps with excitement.
A cool breeze passes.
She is staring at her car, wanting so much to drive into the night, over the hill and across state lines. And then she will pull over and rest, only to drive again until she sees the view of a foreign city.
It would be a city that held in its possession every single one of her much beloved furniture that she had to throw out over the years. And, the library would be shelved with books that she had lost, and books she wanted to read, but never got around to. Her neighbors would be old friends- how she remembered them best. They would hug each other after being so distant and they would marvel at how great it felt to be together again.
Her memory, which was once so broken and hazy, is now lucid and solid. She feels its weight and the barren trees are now full of leaves, with faces of former lovers and friends poking out. Some are staring with sadness and accusations, while others have moved on. And still, there are the blank faces.
She stands feeling naked and cold, like the simple drawing of a woman's figurine in all that white space.
The dog, recognizing the state of her owner, says; let's go find a really Good Man, who will take care of the garden and will remember where you left your keys. He will buy you your favorite Mexican candy from the liquor store and will also remember your love for old leather and the Ballet.
Let's go inside, she said.
How is it that she can want such newness in her life and nothing at all?
She walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator door. Her husband walks in and she is still standing there, staring at its contents as if though somewhere inside, there was a map to that foreign city.