The Pasts

Chapter 7

The morning gloomy sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over your apartment. The light feels gentle, almost like a caress, as it touches the surfaces of your room. It's been a month since Natasha left, and the pain of her absence is still fresh, but you're slowly finding your way through it.

You sit at your desk, a steaming mug of tea in hand. The warmth seeps into your fingers, a small comfort against the chill of the early morning. Your laptop hums quietly, the screen displaying a series of photos you've been editing. These little routines—editing photos, sipping tea—have become your lifeline, small anchors in the sea of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

The Hobbit plays softly in the background, the familiar scenes and melodies no longer a painful reminder of Natasha but a comforting presence. You let the sound wash over you, filling the room with a sense of peace. The characters and their journey feel like old friends, offering a kind of comfort that words can't quite capture.

As you adjust the brightness on a photo, your mind drifts back to the mornings you used to spend with Natasha. Her laughter, her touch, the way she made the world seem brighter—all these memories linger, bittersweet but no longer as sharp. The sting has dulled, replaced by a warm, lingering ache.

You decide to take a break and grab a bagel from the cafe down the street. Standing up, you stretch, feeling the stiffness in your muscles ease. You slip on a raincoat and grab your umbrella and camera, ready to face the summer rain. The city outside is a canvas, and you find solace in capturing its moments, even in the rain.

Stepping outside, the cool droplets kiss your face, and you breathe in deeply, the scent of rain-soaked earth filling your lungs. The world feels fresh and alive, the rain turning the mundane into something magical. You open your umbrella and begin your walk, the sound of rain tapping a soothing rhythm above you.

As you walk, you raise your camera, capturing the city in its rainy glory. Drops of water cling to the leaves of trees, and reflections shimmer in puddles, turning the streets into mirrors. Each click of the shutter is a reminder that life goes on, that beauty can be found even in the midst of sadness.

The cafe is a welcome sight, its warm glow spilling out onto the wet sidewalk. You step inside, shaking off the rain and feeling the warmth envelop you. The smell of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee wraps around you like a comforting hug.

You order a bagel and a hot drink, your usual comfort food, and find a seat by the window. Watching the rain outside, you let yourself relax, enjoying the simple pleasure of a good meal and the quiet company of strangers. The world feels a little less lonely here, a little more manageable.

After finishing your bagel, you sip your drink slowly, savoring the warmth. The cafe is busy but not overwhelming, the hum of conversation and the clink of dishes creating a soothing background noise. You take out your camera again, capturing the cozy interior—the barista's focused expression, the steam rising from cups, the soft light filtering through the rain streaked windows.

As you step back outside the cafe, the gentle drizzle has subsided, leaving behind a city washed clean by the summer rain. You adjust your camera strap, feeling the comforting weight of it against your side. The familiar streets, once a maze of painful memories, now seem more navigable, each step forward a testament to your growing strength.

The city feels alive around you. People bustle by, umbrellas tucked away, their faces reflecting a mix of determination and contentment. You lift your camera, capturing moments of everyday life—a couple sharing a quiet laugh under an awning, a child splashing in a puddle, the glistening leaves of trees lining the street. These small, beautiful fragments of life are becoming your therapy, each click of the shutter a step toward healing.