I believe in what I can build with my own two hands. A savings account. A furnished apartment. A life that doesn’t depend on anyone but me.
Love is a lie I stopped telling myself a long time ago.
The streetlights flicker on, and I realize I’ve been standing here too long. My feet are cold through my workshoes. The evening is slipping away and I haven’t eaten since noon.
I give the green chair one last look and head for my car.
My apartment is on the second floor of a brick building at the edge of town. It’s small but clean, with a window that overlooks the parking lot and heat that actually works. Compared to some places I’ve lived, it’s a palace.
Compared to what I want it to be, it’s barely a start.
I unlock the door and step inside, letting the warmth hit my face. My shoes come off first, set neatly by the door. Then my coat, hung on the single hook I bought at the dollar store because the apartment didn’t come with one.
The living room is mostly empty. A secondhand couch I found on the community board. A folding table I use for everything from eating to sorting laundry. No TV. No art on the walls. No curtains, just the cheap blinds that came with the place.
It’s not a home. Not yet.
But it’s mine. And I came here with nothing, so this counts as progress.
I pull the leftover soup from the fridge and pour it into a pot on the stove. While it heats, I fill the kettle and set it on the back burner. Chamomile tonight, I think. Something to quiet the restlessness that’s followed me around all day.
Just the burner and someone’s muffled TV. A year ago I couldn’t stand apartments this quiet. I’d have music on, someone on the phone, anything. Now I don’t need it.
Silence means no one is asking anything of me. No one is disappointing me. No one is leaving.
When the soup is hot and the tea is steeping, I carry both to the folding table and sit down in the single chair I own. Tomorrow I’ll eat standing at the counter like I usually do, but tonight feels like a sitting-down kind of night.
After I eat, I wash the bowl and pot immediately. Put them back in the cabinet. Wipe down the counter. I can’t control much, but I can control this. A clean space. An organized life. The small rituals that keep the chaos at bay.
Then I go to the closet.
The shoebox is on the top shelf, tucked behind a stack of spare towels. I pull it down and carry it to the couch, settling into the worn cushions with my planner open on my lap.
Payday.
I pull the cash from my wallet. It’s not much after rent and bills, but it’s something. I count it twice, then open the shoebox.
My savings. Every spare dollar I’ve managed to scrape together since I got here. It’s not impressive by most standards, but it represents something bigger than the sum of its parts. Discipline. Patience. A future I’m building one paycheck at a time.
I add tonight’s contribution and count the total. Then I open the planner to the budget page and update the numbers.
At this rate, I could have enough for the green chair by March. Later depending on what happens. Sooner if I find that second job.
Stanley’s Diner floats through my mind. The endless Help Wanted sign. The waitress position.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll stop in and ask about hours.
I close the planner and lean back against the couch, staring at the bare walls of my apartment. In my head, I can see it the way it will be someday. The green velvet chair in the corner by the window. A real dining table with chairs that match. Curtains in a soft cream color, maybe with a subtle pattern. A bookshelf filled with novels I’ll actually have time to read.
A sanctuary. Clean and cozy and completely my own.
That’s what I came to Shadow Wolf Creek for. Not a mate. Not a fairy tale. Just a chance to start over and build something that can’t be taken away.
I think about Derrick and the way he’s been looking at me lately. The extra attention. The reasons to call me into his office. The questions about my weekend plans that have nothing to do with work.
He’s a good boss. Fair. Pays on time. Doesn’t ask me to do anything that isn’t in my job description.
But I’ve seen the way this goes. Boss takes an interest. Employee plays along to keep the peace. Things get complicated. Things get messy. Employee ends up looking for a new job in a new town, starting over from zero.
