adamram CW CW2
She walked down the street where she once saw a man, no different from anybody else, dance about humorously. Today, this is her street, where she will bump into this figure again and again, the shadow of a happy man who whispered into her ear that evening that freedom is hers as well. As if life resided only on this street. Further down, there was an old white bike leaning against a yellow wall, waiting for her. Fifteen years ago boys in love with her, hidden behind a stone wall, would throw apples, aiming for the bike, wanting it and her to stop. The apples would get stuck between the spokes. Then they would run to her and ask her about her new dog, the biggest in town, and stepped around her, embarrassed. Her happiest memories slept on this street. In her right hand she gently clasped the key to the flat, as if someone was trying to take it away from her. Flats with five windows and wooden shutters in the middle of the town she had always admired. She could not believe that she was to become part of another life today, a life she had fought for herself. How would she pay the rent, how would she...? The questions prodded her chest and took her breath. The dancing figure overtook her in the street, greeted her and danced away with doubts toward the river. Incredible power ran down her spine. She can do anything if she remains true to herself and stands behind her decisions, even at the price of having new fears and shattering illusions. The house smelled of the sun and fresh wood. In hot June, the staircase was nicely cool. She opened the door and laughed at the empty flat and herself. In the right corner lay a pair of worn-out brown boots, and on the kitchen shelf there were two teapots with a flower pattern and strong black tea left by the former tenant. It hurt a bit when she saw there was no toilet seat in the bathroom in her first, seemingly untouched flat. And she laughed again. She looked through the window and embraced the street.