First Call
Ellen stepped into her home, the silence greeting her like an old friend. The brunch had gone well—far better than she had anticipated.
She made her way upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted stairs. When she reached her room, she let her bag fall onto the bed, the events of the day playing over in her mind. As she began to undress, ready to wash off the café smell and the light sweat from yoga, her thoughts were already back at the table with Clara.
Clara was a goldmine.
Ellen turned on the faucet, letting the warm water fill the sink as she splashed some on her face, the cool breeze keeping her wild mind in check.
Clara had been so friendly, so warm, more so than Ellen expected. The conversation had flowed easily, and before long, Clara had casually invited Ellen to come by her house sometime, saying they could have tea or just chat.