Sorcha watched through the window of her apartment as summer rain fell in a continuous downpour.

She opened the window with a satisfying thud.

A rush of cool wind gusted through the apartment, causing the candle flame to flicker.

The cozy low yellow light cast a shadow of the dancing flame on the bedroom wall, where pale pink paint was artfully chipping.

Sorcha turned down the music and listened to the storm.

God, the cool air felt good.

It was Saturday night, and she was alone.

Sorcha was usually so busy with work that in the evening she welcomed the alone time, either going to the gym or on a run through the nearby forested park. She’d then take a bath with sweet-smelling salts and have dinner, followed by a few pages of a fantasy novel before knocking out.

Since leaving her job, however, she’d had nothing but alone time, living in this foreign city away from her friends and family.

The job brought her here, and she was glad it did. Berlin was historic, vibrant, and sort of crumbly, like a breakfast pastry.

There was a green-blue river she could see in the distance from her apartment. There were majestic trees, regular rain, and bright summer light in the mornings that poured through the window.

Was there a place that could satisfy her completely? Probably not. She didn’t know where else she’d go, anyway.

The storm grew louder. The rain was speaking.

Speaking to parts of Sorcha she’d been too busy to know.

People asked why she would leave her job.

She did it for reasons she didn’t even fully understand, besides the fact that she felt like she was suffocating.

She needed time to do nothing but breathe.

She needed room to understand what truly mattered. In that, the solitude was helpful.

The room smelled of vanilla and pine, and as she watched the rain, she realized that having free time was more difficult than her demanding job was.

What was that about?

Now that she could just breathe, it’s like she didn’t know how to.

Time was moving either too fast, or too slow.

She wondered what the point was—if she wasn’t busy, she felt like she was doing something wrong. The feeling clawed at her insides, even though she knew how silly the concept was.

She knew another job would be just as unsatisfying as the last one. That the things that were supposed to make her happy seldom did, or at least didn’t keep her happy for long.

What would make her happy?

Perhaps nothing more than this.

She pulled out a green apple from the fridge and placed it on the chopping block, then opened the kitchen window to listen to the humming rainfall.

A gust wafted the candle fragrance through the apartment, and Sorcha smiled.

She took a sharp knife from the wooden block and cut a slice from the apple, the skin firm, the inside crisp and white. She bit down and juice exploded in her mouth, tart and sour, with a subtle sweetness left on her tongue.

The taste of a good apple never got old.

The taste, plus the smell of the candle and the sound of rain, was more satisfying than anything she’d accomplished in her career.

Sorcha called her mom, who picked up after a few rings. “Are you okay?” her mom asked. It’s what she always said.

Sorcha chuckled. “Yeah mom, just checking in.”

“Wonderful.” she said it with joy in her voice, just as she always had when Sorcha called. “What’s up?”

Thunder bellowed in the distance, and after a few heartbeats, a strike of lightning illuminated the room.

Sorcha let out a gratifying sigh. “Life is finally starting to make sense,” she said.

“Oh, good!”