The Things We Carry

Haley had always hated the sound of shoes on wet pavement. It was a sound that, for as long as she could remember, signaled the loss of something important. The rhythmic slap of soles against slick, rain-soaked asphalt was always accompanied by a gust of wind, a reminder that something — someone — was leaving. That sound haunted her.

She didn’t notice at first when it started raining, absorbed as she was in the tightness of her breath, the erratic pace of her footsteps. Her jacket clung uncomfortably to her back, her skin hot despite the cold bite of the October air. All around her, the night moved in silence, only the occasional hum of a passing car or the distant murmur of a bar spilling into the streets interrupted the quiet. But the rain — she could hear the rain as it met the ground, as it rolled from the leaves of the trees lining the empty sidewalks, as it hit the metal of street signs, and her footsteps against the pavement.

She was running away.

Metaphorically. Or maybe not. She wasn’t sure anymore. Her brain was a constant loop of fragmented thoughts, tangled memories, and the one thing she knew- she couldn’t stay.

Haley's apartment was only two streets over, but it may as well have been on the other side of the world. Every step she took seemed to drag, each new block felt like an impossible stretch of asphalt and buildings, and no matter how fast she moved, she couldn’t shake the sensation that she was stuck. She’d passed the same corner three times now — the one with the flickering lamppost and the deli that closed at 7 p.m. — and each time she had turned left, hoping it would lead her somewhere different. But it didn’t.

You always find your way back to the same place. That’s what Jacob used to say to her. He’d said it last week, in fact. He’d said it over the phone, his voice thick with both frustration and care. That’s how Jacob was. Every criticism wrapped in concern, like if he softened the words enough, maybe it wouldn’t sting. But it did. It always did.

Jacob wasn’t the reason she was running, not entirely. But he was part of it. He had called again earlier that day, asking her to come home, to sit down and talk about what was happening between them. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. It had been brewing for months — years, even — this growing space between them, this sense that they were two people caught in the same life but not really living it together anymore. He had been patient, understanding even, but she could hear the edge in his voice now, the quiet desperation. He didn’t know how to fix it, and neither did she.

So, instead of trying, she ran.

The streets blurred together as she turned another corner, this one unfamiliar. The rain was falling harder now, coming down in sheets that glistened under the streetlights, turning the world into a mess of wet reflections and half-formed shadows. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her chest tight, not just from exertion but from the weight she had been carrying for so long.

When had everything become so complicated?

She stopped, doubling over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. The rain had stopped feeling cold and was now just heavy, pushing her down as if the sky itself wanted her to stay put. She needed this — the cold, the discomfort, the physicality of it. It kept her grounded, kept her from floating away with the storm inside her head.

Jacob had always been good at grounding her. He was steady in a way that she wasn’t, always knowing the right thing to say, the right thing to do. He never panicked, never lost his way. When they met in college, she’d admired that about him — his calm, his certainty. He was like a rock in the middle of a chaotic world, and she, like water, had always felt restless, crashing against him in waves. But now she wasn’t sure if she was the one moving or if he was, slowly eroding beneath the surface until there was nothing left to hold onto.

The rain was pounding harder now, making it difficult to see. She needed to keep moving, but her legs felt heavy, her feet cold and numb inside her soaked sneakers. She glanced down the street. It was long and straight, disappearing into the dark, just like her life had begun to feel — no turns, no breaks, just an endless path stretching out in front of her. And no matter how far she ran, it seemed, she couldn’t escape it.

There was a café up ahead, its soft, amber light spilling onto the sidewalk. Without thinking, Natalie made her way toward it, her feet squelching with each step. She pushed the door open, and a bell jingled overhead, the sound incongruent with the rainstorm outside. Inside, it was quiet, save for the low hum of jazz music playing from a speaker in the corner and the hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter. A few patrons sat at scattered tables, nursing mugs of coffee, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of their phones or the warm light from the sconces on the wall.

She found an empty booth by the window and slid into it, her wet clothes sticking uncomfortably to the vinyl seat. She didn’t care. Outside, the rain continued to fall in steady streams, distorting the world beyond the glass, making it look like a dream — vague and blurred at the edges, just like everything in her life right now.

“What can I get for you?” a voice asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

Haley looked up to see a woman standing beside the table, a towel slung over her shoulder and a notepad in hand. She was older, maybe in her fifties, with graying hair tied back in a loose bun and kind, tired eyes.

“Just coffee,” Haley said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Black.”

The woman nodded and walked away, leaving Haley alone with the quiet jazz and the rain-splattered window. She stared at her reflection in the glass, the pale outline of her face, barely recognizable in the dim light.

Jacob's voice echoed in her head again. You always find your way back to the same place. Maybe he was right. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was always running but never really getting anywhere. The café, this night, even her relationship with Jacob — it was all a circle, wasn’t it? She kept ending up here, in this space of indecision, of wanting to escape but not knowing how.

The coffee arrived, steaming and dark in the chipped ceramic mug. Haley wrapped her hands around it, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. She took a tentative sip, the bitter liquid burning her tongue, but she welcomed the sharpness of it. It felt real, like something solid in the haze of her thoughts.

Outside, a figure ran past the window, their coat billowing behind them as they splashed through the puddles, their footsteps fading quickly into the distance. Haley watched them go, her chest tightening again.

They were running too.

But where were they going? Were they running toward something? Away from something? Maybe both, like her. Maybe, like her, they weren’t sure if they could keep running forever.

The door jingled again, and the woman with the notepad returned. “Anything else?” she asked.

Haley shook her head, suddenly exhausted, the adrenaline from her flight finally wearing off, leaving her drained and cold.

The woman smiled, a small, knowing smile, like she’d seen people like Natalie before. Maybe she had.

“You take care of yourself, sweetheart,” the woman said softly before walking away.

Haley watched her go, feeling an unexpected lump rise in her throat. She hadn’t expected kindness tonight, not from a stranger, not from anyone. And maybe that was the problem. She had stopped expecting things to get better, had stopped believing that they could.

She glanced down at the coffee in her hands, the steam still rising in lazy spirals. The rain was letting up now, the pounding slowing to a soft drizzle. The world outside the window was still blurred, but it was beginning to take shape again, the outlines of the buildings becoming clearer, the streets more defined.

Maybe Jacob was right. Maybe you do always find your way back to the same place. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it was just part of the process, part of figuring out what comes next.

She didn’t know where she was going, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of the uncertainty.

Haley took one last sip of her coffee, stood, and walked out into the rain.