Charlotte walked through the living room, into the kitchen of her childhood home, and out the back door. The old back porch creaked under her feet, matched by the screech of the old door hinges, and she rushed off the porch, onto the dirt backyard to her Civic.
She hopped inside the car, trying to push every last memory out, and focused on what she needed to do for the rest of the day. While it was just as scary as the haunting memories of her life, at least the task at hand didn’t petrify her to the point where she couldn’t move.
Charlotte started her Civic, and slowly pulled out of the back driveway, dust kicking into the air, the sounds of rocks beneath her wheels, and she drove through the dirt path that led out of her backyard and behind several other properties that lined her childhood street.
The sloped roofs of the neocolonial houses still indicated the slight rain from earlier in the day. The rain had only lasted about half an hour, but its remains still betrayed its occurrence nevertheless. Charlotte thought back to when she once got a frisbee stuck on a neighbor’s roof, and there it stayed for weeks, because she had been too shy to tell the neighbor what had happened.
The smell of the aforementioned rain was strong and it served as enough of a refreshing diversion from the weighted emotions in her mind that she cracked the driver side window so that the scent could fill the car.
At first, her grip on the wheel was very tight and she was worried that should anything jump out in front of her as she drove, that her inevitable overreaction would cause her to lose control of the vehicle and get herself and likely others killed.
But the smell of the departed rain and the relaxing freedom of being on the move in her car eased her tension a little, and so her grip on the steering wheel loosened.