Runaway Rosie.

One.

"What can I get for you dear?" 

I quickly opened my eyes, taking in my surroundings. Everybody was still looking at me, but who could blame them. A young disheveled girl, soaked from head-to-toe, splattered in mud, and whom was breathing heavy, had just walked into this seemingly calm place. I was bound to be noticed. I ignored them and turned back to the old lady with white hair piled high on top of her head, a growing mustache, and loads wrinkles who was trying to take my order. She grabbed the pencil from behind her ear and bounced it on the palm-sized notepad in her hand. 

"I'll just uh, how much for one of those?" I asked pointing to the massive muffins behind her. 

"About £2" she said, facing me. I groaned inwardly knowing I was still a bit short. 

"Nevermind, I don't have enough." I spun on my heel to leave, but a voice had stopped me. 

"No, here, I'll pay. Would you like a coffee too, sweetie?" A woman in what seemed to be her late thirties, or early forties, asked me. 

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that. I'll just be on my way." She clicked her tongue at me and smiled.

"Nonsense, you must be starved and freezing, plus these muffins are the best around. Can't miss out on eatin' one, isn't that right Martha?" The waitress chuckled, mumbling her agreements, and started to fill the order. 

"Go take a seat." I hesistated a moment. I wasn't used to anyone being so nice to me. 

"Go on now." She shooed me towards a booth and I reluctantly complied. 

I sat at a small two-person table by the window and watched the rain drops race each other down. More thunder growled and lightning illuminated the buildings, but the dark clouds that concealed the once blue skies, now seemed to be clearing up a bit. 

"Storm just came out of nowhere, won't last much longer though." I jumped, slightly startled at the woman's voice. She handed me the cup of coffee and one of the giant muffins that made my ever so dry mouth salivate intensely.

"Thank you." I whispered. She just nodded and sat down in front of me. 

"No problem sweetheart." I fumbled with the wrapper of the pastry, my hands shaking as paranoia once again settled over me. I glanced around, feeling his prescence somewhere close by and shuddered, that was impossible. I took a bite of the heaven-made perfection in front of me and melted in it's glory. Banana Nut had always been a favorite of mine. My mother used to make them home-made all the time when I was younger. I continued to scarf it down, not once caring for manners. The lady in front of me cleared her throat and I swallowed, numbly murmuring an apology. 

"I'm Anne by the way. What's your name?" I took a sip of the coffee, burning my tongue and quickly set it back down. 

"Rosie." I saw her look at my left hand and take note of the small wedding ring on it, the damn thing was stuck and wouldn't budge, despite all the lotion I'd used to try and pry it off. She then took notice of the partially damaged 'Battered Woman's Shelter' brochure hanging out of my trench coat pocket. It was wet and the black ink was beginning to drip, smudging all the smiling women's faces.

"Is that where you're going?" She asked pointing to the packet. I pulled it out of my coat and laid it on the table.

"Trying to go..." My voice trailed off and I looked up at Anne. Her face was soft, her eyes tinged with disappointment. Though I don't know her, she seemed like a genuine person.

"How about I take you home with me, get you some dry clothes and a warm, home cooked meal and we'll talk, yeah?" I looked out the window, trying to keep control of my emotions. I can't believe I actually did it. I really ran away.

"Come on." She stood up and I slowly followed suit, more in a trance like state. I was freezing and dry clothes with a warm meal sounded wonderful to me.

"Anne, when's your son gonna be back? We miss his cheeky old ways." Martha yelled over to us as we made our way to the door.

"He should be home any minute now, I'll tell him to stop by sometime this week. See you later Martha, and thank you!"

"No problem dear, see you." She laughed and began wiping down the counter and pouring coffee into other customers' cups simultaneously. 

The bell on the door chimed again as we made our way out. I stayed close behind Anne, frantically checking to see if the coast was clear. Anne held the passenger side door open and motioned for me to get in. I hesistated again. I hadn't been in a car in years.

"I'm not a bad driver, I promise, but my daughter on the other hand..." She laughed to herself and I relaxed a bit, mustering a small smile before climbing into the metal death trap.

She got in on the driver's side and buckled up before pulling away from the small bakery. I sat completely still, arms folded around my torso, staring blankly out the window. Only moments later, we pulled up to what I assumed was her house. She shut the car off and I jumped out, glad to be on solid ground.

"Not big on driving are you?" I shook my head in response and turned my attention to the house. It was cute, definitely nicer than where I was from. The rain had ceased and the sky was back to it's clear blue color. Birds chirped in nearby trees and the sun shone brightly.

"Let's get you out of those clothes and get 'em washed." She ushered me up the driveway and into the house.

"I'm home! Brought some company too." She yelled and then turned back towards me.

"You can stay in my son's room, he won't mind staying on the couch."  She pulled me up some stairs and into a bedroom, a clean one at that.

The bed was twin sized and had a dark green, striped comforter on it. The walls were a plain, off-white color. The carpet was a soft beige color that complimented the wood dresser nicely. Anne dug around in some drawers, pulling out some red plaid pajamas pants, and a big green sweater that coincidentally matched the comforter.

"Here sweetie, change into these and bring your clothes down to the kitchen and I'll get the washer started, alright?"  I nodded and she shuffled out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

I let out my breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Slowly, I began peeling off my cold, wet clothes, and putting on the new ones. They smelled fresh, just out of the laundry. It reminded me of my childhood. Surprisingly, my Father had done all the laundry and he'd always done it perfectly too. I gathered the dirty apparel off the floor and bundled them in my arms. I took one last look around the room before opening the small bedroom's door and heading downstairs.