Return to Yesterday

One

The sun rises, waking the still woman sleeping. The light wakens her body with a flood of warmth. She started her daily routine of a warm shower and towel dried hair. The steam from the shower covers the mirror in fog. As she opens the door that leads into her bedroom, the fog trickles out from inside the bathroom much like a witches cauldron. The link between the two rooms being only a small, white door. Samantha, the woman, heads back into the larger room to dress. She has a basic towel wrapped around her womanly curves and she allows the steam to clear from inside the bathroom while dressing. Samantha grabs a crisp pair of cream pants and neutral toned blouse. She layers the two with a gold necklace and earrings. Once the outfit is complete, Samantha heads back into the bathroom to complete her routine. A little hint of makeup and rearranging of the hair creates a fresh, ready for work look.

After sliding her nimble feet into a pair of neutral loafers, Samantha heads to the small kitchen in her apartment. The kitchen is plain, with a few decorative items from Samantha's previous residence. There's a horse painting from childhood on the blank wall between the fridge and other side of the counter, just enough room to fit one person standing vertically between the space. There are some fancy salt and pepper shakers sitting atop an extremely used stovetop.

Samantha readies some bread for the toaster and puts in some pods for the coffee maker. She pours some sweeteners in and scrambles to complete the morning breakfast steps. She butters the now toast and pours the coffee into a travel cup. A few pieces of ice will dilute the temperature. With that, she is grabbing her bag and purse before leaving the apartment.

A large, red brick building with iron stairs. That's the place where Samantha spends the other 30% of her time besides work. She uses an old fashion key to lock her dual locks and slings her brief across her chest. The morning dew pernitrates her lungs, filling with the smokey mildew scent of the neighborhood. Samantha coughs quickly, puts away the apartment key and heads down on the iron stairs. The second floor causes Samantha originally to be winded, but now that she's been living in the old place for 6 months, the chance of winded is long gone. Instead, she seems to embrace the quick motions. It wakes the muscles and stretches the body a little more than the first floor.

She heads across the street to the small, gated parking lot for her small car. The blue paint is rusting off the 2005 Ford Focus, but the gas milage keeps Samantha in check. Who needs a new car with this economy? After all, Samantha is fortunate to have a job at all. She shoves the brief into the passenger seat, puts the coffee into the cup holder then sits into the driver's seat. She has a system: bag down, coffee down, Samantha down. The radio blasts from the previous night and Samantha must turn it off. The morning is much too crisp for 90s rock.

Still, there's a soft lull of sound crackling from the speakers. The age of car seems to bring haunted sounds with each mile driven longer. Samantha ignores the familiar tunes, and instead faces the road for leaving. One simple 20-mile trek and one empty cup later, and Samantha is in her office.

Department of Child and Family Services stares back at Samantha as she steps out of vehicle. She equips herself with items before heading into the large, dated building. The tempered glass screams I can see you, but Samantha has become accustomed to the microscope.

"Good morning!" Samantha says to the secretary Annie. Annie smiles back, still holding the phone even on hold.

"Do I have any urgent calls for me today?" Samantha looks through the same stack of magazines on the coffee table. Annie slides a sticky note over the counter and taps the pen head on the marble.

"Oh," Samantha reads, "Do you know if they called this morning at all?"

Annie shakes her head left to right. Still, Samantha takes the notes and sticks it to the side of her tumbler cup before walking into the cubicles.