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all pale bluish grey except one. The white accent wall with the flat screen mounted against it faced a large white leather couch on the opposite wall. An oversized white leather chair was positioned to the left of the couch, next to the window.  The wall to wall black leather tile flooring gave the room a clean palate against the white leather furniture and glass tables. The artwork hanging above the couch was all done in black and white.  One large portrait was of the Sahara Desert and a lone set of footprints.  The other was of a breathtaking waterfall set against jagged rocks.  Side by side, the two pictures were a beautiful contradiction.  The kitchen was full of black stainless steel appliances against the white diamond marble countertops and backsplashes.  The loft was everything I could’ve dreamed of in a home—a place of beauty and solace.
    I gently placed my handbag on the coffee table that sat in front of the couch.  I pulled out the mail and I laid the handwritten envelope on top. “Yeah I need a drink first,” I said aloud before I sat down. Going to the opposite wall, closest to the front door, I found myself in the kitchen getting a glass of my favorite moscato d’asti and a slice of chocolate cake.  Leaning against the stainless steel oven, I sipped my wine and rubbed my temples. I can’t do this right now, I thought apprehensively .
    Putting the glass on the island and putting a paper towel over my slice of cake, I walked over to the black steel staircase that leads to my bedroom. I took the stairs two at a time. Pulling my pink cardigan off and stripping out of my black slacks, I threw on a pair of red yoga pants and a plain white T-shirt.  Deciding that I’d procrastinated enough, I made my way back down the steps.  Grabbing my dessert and my wine, I walked to the living room and delicately placed my “dinner” on the coffee table beside my handbag.
    D owning the last of my wine, I pulled the letter into my lap. Here goes nothing, I thought as I carefully took the letter out and unfolded the single page.
    Sahara
    Cole’s up for parole.
    EM
    A newspaper clipping fell out of the folds of the single sheet of paper.  The headline for the article screamed at me: ‘ Cole Parole Hearing Moved Up.” I read the words three times before my eyes blurred with tears. No no no, I thought as I let the paper fall to the floor. Everything I felt from my past came rushing back. It hurt too much to relive that night…and the aftermath.
    I bit the tip of my tongue to keep the tears from falling. I squeezed my eyes tightly together until the tears receded. I don’t know how long I sat there motionless, but once my tight muscles started to loosen up, I decided to go to bed. Glancing at the clock, it was only 7pm, but it felt much later. I was exhausted—mind, body and soul. I dumped the cake into the trash can and put the dishes in the dishwasher. I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom and got in the king sized bed.
    I did n’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up gasping for air with tears streaming down my face.  I could still see the headlights and hear the screams when I sat up. Shaking, I sat on the edge of the bed. Fearing a panic attack, I tried to focus on my breathing. Once my heart rate slowed to a normal speed, I laid back down. But too unsettled by the nightmare, I didn’t even try to close my eyes. The clock read 3:41am. I knew falling asleep was going to be impossible.
    I allowed myself all o f two seconds to consider how being close to someone in Richland would help because I’d have someone to talk to about it.  But creating and maintaining relationships require a certain type of openness and vulnerability that I knew I wasn’t capable of anymore. Missing my family, I accepted my reality and did what I always did in order to take my mind off of the past.  Pulling my phone off of the charger, I put my “Goodnight” playlist on shuffle and waited for the first song to play. How