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The First Week

Maya woke on Thursday to gray light and the sound of rain tapping against her window. She lay still, watching the drops trail down the glass. The room was small. The bed was hard. The walls were white. She'd been here four days. It still didn't feel like hers. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Idris: You awake? She reached for it. Barely. How's the jet lag? Terrible. I fell asleep at 7 PM. Woke up at 3 AM. Stared at the ceiling for two hours. That sounds familiar. She smiled. You used to do that. I still do that. I just don't text you about it anymore. Why not? Because you're five hours ahead. By the time I can't sleep, you're already awake. She looked at the clock. 8:15 AM here. 3:15 AM there. You should sleep. I should. But I keep thinking about you. She sat up. The floor was cold. She pulled on socks. Thinking about what? If you've found a coffee shop yet. If you're eating something that isn't oatmeal. If you're okay. She walked to the window. The street below w

The Call

Maya woke Saturday morning to sunlight cutting through her window. She blinked. Sat up. The room was warm. The radiator clicked. For the first time since she'd arrived, she'd slept through the night. Her phone showed 9:15 AM. No messages. She stretched. Got out of bed. The floor was cold. She pulled on socks. At 10, she walked to the cafe. The bell rang. The woman behind the counter already had the tea ready. "You slept," the woman said. "I slept." "First time?" "First time since I got here." The woman set the pot down. "That's progress." Maya wrapped her hands around the cup. "It's something." --- She stayed for an hour. Drank her tea. Watched the street. A woman with a stroller. A man walking his dog. A couple arguing about directions. Her phone buzzed. Idris: You up? She typed: Yeah. I actually slept. That's good. It's something. What are you doing? Sitting in the cafe. Watching people. Anyone interesting? A couple arguing about directions. She's right. He won

The Second Week

Maya woke Monday morning to the sound of rain against her window. She lay still, listening. The drops were steady, rhythmic. She'd learned to recognize the patterns now. Light drizzle. Heavy downpour. The in-between that soaked through her jacket before she made it to the cafe. Her phone buzzed. Idris: You awake? Barely. It's raining here too. It's always raining here. He sent a photo. A window. Rain on glass. A street below. She studied it for a moment. The buildings looked taller than hers. The street wider. That's Chicago? That's my apartment. The view isn't great. It's something. It's a window. There's a coffee shop on the corner. I told you about it. The one with terrible coffee. The one with terrible coffee. I go there every morning now. Why? Because I need to. Because it's there. Because if I don't, I'll spend the whole day in this apartment staring at the wall. She sat up. The floor was cold. She pulled on socks. That sounds familiar. Yeah. I found a grocer

The Third Week

Maya woke Wednesday morning to sunlight and the sound of her phone buzzing. She reached for it without opening her eyes. Idris. You awake? She typed: Barely. What time is it there? She squinted at the clock. 9:47 AM. Almost 10. You? 5 AM. Can't sleep. What's wrong? A pause. Then: Nothing. Just thinking about you. She sat up. The floor was cold. She pulled on socks. What about me? If you've tried the scones yet. She smiled. I tried them. They're terrible. That's what you said. Because it's true. What else? She looked around the room. The walls were still white. The floor was still bare. But the desk had papers on it now. A stack of books. A notebook she'd filled halfway. I went to another lecture. With Clara. How was it? Good. She lent me a book. I'm supposed to read it before next week. Are you going to? She picked up the book from her nightstand. The cover was worn. Pages marked with sticky notes. I think so. That's progress. It's something. She set the pho

The Breakthrough

Maya woke Thursday morning to her phone buzzing on the nightstand. She grabbed it without opening her eyes. Idris's name flashed on the screen. I booked the ticket. She sat up fast. The room spun for a moment. She blinked at the screen. What? I booked the ticket. London. Two weeks from today. Her heart was pounding. She typed: You're coming here? I told you I was going to visit. I thought you meant eventually. Eventually is now. She stared at the screen. Her hands were shaking. She didn't know why. How long? A week. Maybe more. Depends on work. She set the phone down. The room was quiet. The street below was waking up. A car passed. Someone called out. She sat there, staring at the wall. Her phone buzzed again. Maya? She picked it up. I'm here. Are you okay? She thought about it. The question sat in her chest, too big to name. I don't know. Do you want me to come? She stared at the screen. The cursor blinked at her. Yes. Then I'm coming. --- At 10, she walked

The Arrival

Maya woke Friday morning to sunlight and the sound of her phone buzzing. She reached for it without opening her eyes. Clara's name. Meet me at the cafe. I have something to show you. She squinted at the clock. 8:15 AM. What time? Now. Before it gets busy. She sat up. The floor was cold. She pulled on socks and a jacket and walked out the door. --- The cafe was almost empty when she arrived. One person reading in the corner. The woman behind the counter pouring tea. Clara was at their usual table, a stack of papers in front of her. "You're early," Maya said, sitting down. "You're later than me." "That's not the same thing." Clara pushed a cup toward her. "Drink. You'll need it." Maya wrapped her hands around the cup. "What is this?" Clara spread the papers across the table. Flyers. Maps. A schedule printed from a website. "The architecture department is doing a tour. Old buildings. Renovated spaces. Places you can't normally go." She pointed at a photo. "This one. It's b

The Sharing

Maya woke Monday morning to sunlight and the question sitting on her chest. Bring something you want to share. She sat up. The floor was cold. She pulled on socks. Her phone buzzed. Idris: You awake? Yeah. What are you doing today? She looked at the shelf. The two books. The photo. The lamp. David asked me to bring something to share. Like what? I don't know. You have a whole flat full of things. Pick one. She stood. Walked to the shelf. --- At 9, she walked to the cafe. The bell rang. The woman behind the counter looked up. "You're early." "I need advice." The woman poured tea. Set it on the counter. "About what?" Maya wrapped her hands around the cup. "David asked me to bring something to share. I don't know what to bring." The woman picked up a cloth. Started wiping the counter. "What do you have?" "Books. Clothes. A photo." "Bring the photo." Maya blinked. "The photo?" "The one on your wall. The one with your friend." "How do you know about that?" The wo

The Day Before

Maya woke Saturday morning to gray light and the weight of the last day pressing down on her chest. She lay still, listening. The rain had stopped overnight. The street below was quiet. Saturday morning. People sleeping in. She'd been here a month. Tomorrow, he would be here. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Idris: You awake? She reached for it. Barely. Me neither. Couldn't sleep. Why not? Kept thinking about tomorrow. She sat up. The floor was cold. She pulled on socks. What about tomorrow? Seeing you. Finally. She looked around the room. The white walls. The bare floor. The photo on the wall. The desk covered with books. The map folded on her nightstand. I've been here a month. It still doesn't feel real. What doesn't? This. London. Being here. You coming. All of it. It'll feel real tomorrow. You think? I know. Because I'll be there. And you'll see me. And it'll be real. She stared at the screen. The cursor blinked at her. What if it's not? What if you get her

The Airport

Maya woke Sunday morning to her phone buzzing on the nightstand. She grabbed it before she opened her eyes. Idris's name. I landed. I'm here. She sat up so fast the room spun. Her hands were shaking. She typed: Where are you? Baggage claim. Waiting for my suitcase. She looked at the clock. 7:48 AM. He was early. Or she was late. She didn't know. I'm coming. I'll be here. She dressed without thinking. Jeans. The blue shirt. The one Jess said made her look confident. She grabbed her jacket and was out the door. --- The train was crowded. Sunday morning. People with luggage. Families. Couples. A man in a suit reading a paper. She stood near the door, holding the rail, watching the city pass. The buildings she'd learned. The streets she'd walked. The bridge she crossed every day on her way to class. She was going the other way now. Her phone buzzed. Idris: Got my suitcase. Where are you? She typed: On the train. Almost there. I'll wait outside. By the arrivals door. I know

The Week

Maya woke Monday morning to sunlight and the sound of someone moving in her kitchen. She lay still for a moment, listening. A cupboard opening. A spoon against a mug. The kettle clicking on. She hadn't made tea in her flat once since she arrived. She sat up. Pulled on a sweater. Walked to the kitchen. Idris was standing at the counter, pouring hot water into two mugs. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His hair was still messy. He looked like he hadn't slept. "You're up," he said. "You're making tea." "You always have tea." He pushed a mug toward her. "I figured I should learn how." She wrapped her hands around the mug. The warmth seeped into her palms. "How is it?" "Terrible. I used the wrong bags." She took a sip. It was weak. The water wasn't hot enough. She drank it anyway. "It's fine," she said. "It's not fine." She looked at him. "It's you. That's what matters." --- At 10, they walked to the cafe. The bell rang. The woman behind the counter looked up,

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