Rebecca coped with her depression by organizing her life so there’d be no time for it. She’d been doing that for years since the divorce. Until one persistent stranger decided to interfere with her strict, lonely routine. Little did Rebecca know, he’d become the one person she’d end up missing.
In the dim light of her bedroom, Rebecca lay on her back, her gaze locked on the digital clock beside her bed.
At 6:29, Rebecca inhaled deeply, anticipating the clock’s change. When it struck 6:30, the alarm blared, but she swiftly silenced it. She rose with practiced precision, smoothing her bed sheets until immaculate. In the bathroom, every item had its place: toothbrush in holder, soap in dish, a small mirror above the sink. At forty-seven, her face bore the marks of experience and resilience. Seven years post-divorce, the pain had dulled, leaving a scar. She found control in order and routine. At 7:00, she donned running shoes, inserted earbuds, and stepped out for her jog—a time to strengthen her body and mind. For months, these runs were solitary, until Charlie, her neighbor, began joining her. Each morning, he’d rush out, sneakers untied, greeting her with enthusiasm. Initially, she resisted, but his persistence wore her down. One day, he joked, “Why did the scarecrow get a promotion? Because he was outstanding in his field!” She chuckled despite herself. Charlie’s lightheartedness softened her strict routine. But one morning, he was absent. Concerned, she learned he’d been hospitalized due to a heart condition exacerbated by their runs. Visiting him, she suggested, “How about dinner at my place instead?” He agreed, relieved. Their connection deepened, blending routine with unexpected joy.
