She got up and headed for the door, full of coffee, thoughts, and laughter. She causally threw her worn purse over her shoulder and exited, a small smile creeping upon her face. Breathing in the smell of almost clean air, she looked around. Deciding to sit on a graffiti covered bench, where sliding would be considered dangerous, she searched in her bag for her mp3 player. The occasional pedestrian strolled by her, subtly glancing at her for a quick judgment. Changing her mind, she got up and ventured down the street. Placing the headphones in her ears, she slowly examined the windows of the small boutiques articulately arranged throughout the small town.
Blurred memories entered her mind. They danced with the sound of the music, and confused themselves with the words created by someone else. She closed her eyes as though that would shut out the ideas, not quite sure why she did not want them there. (It is always easier to convince yourself that something is bad.) She turned sharply, like she had made the wrong choice and promptly tried to correct herself. Bumping into a taller body, she looked up.