Sophia closed her laptop and leaned back in the creaky wooden chair where she had been sitting for hours. She wondered what she would do next – now that her thesis was finished. She let her mind wander through the last few years.
Sophie had dedicated her life to her education. Her professors knew that her work would always be exceptional. The librarians knew her by name. She’d read, written, copied, studied and researched her life away. Sophie used to be popular – she used to have friends. When did she decide to focus on school and exclude them? She couldn’t remember. Still lost in thought, she closed gathered her things, stood up, inhaled the wonderful, musty smell of the library one last time and walked out the door.
Sophie came through her front door with a mission. She put the teakettle on to heat and dug through her office until she found the little box where she kept names, addresses and phone numbers. The kettle began to whistle, and she hurried back to the kitchen. With a steaming mug in one hand, her phone in the other and the box tucked under her arm, Sophie settled onto her couch. Sophie covered herself with her old afghan, hoping to draw strength from all the wonderful women who had worked on and owned this afghan before her. She took a deep breath and was only faintly aware of the sound of the neighbor’s barking dog as she opened the box, pulled out a card and began to dial that once familiar phone number.
Friday, December 11, 2009
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