Like a flock of birds flying upwards in beautiful unison, Ava woke up.  She sensed bright sunlight was igniting her motel room even though she’d hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. That means I slept through the entire night, thought Ava.  Excited, her eyes snapped open. But they were met not with sunlight but with the dim gray light of dawn. She scanned the room. Panic sliced through her like a paper cut. This wasn’t her motel room. Ava started saying the ABCs in her head over and over until she felt her body relaxing. It was a silly habit of her’s that started in childhood.
Ava’s eyes adjusted to the light and studied the room. It was a study in minimalism - stark and austere in every detail. Nothing adorned the walls. No curtains, just a pull down shade that sat tightly rolled up at the top of the window. It was as though with one swift, fast tug it had snapped out of someone’s hand and retreated to upper heights of the tall window frame where it remained on permanent hiatus.

She slowly ran her hands  over a beautiful patchwork quilt laying over her, she could tell it was handmade.

Just then the sun started peaking over the horizon sending a golden glow into the sky. Ava scanned the room again, slower this time. She found not one thing of a personal nature in the room. Not a single clue to reveal whose house she was in let alone whose bed.

Next to the bed, on a night stand, a low flame burned in a glass kerosene lamp. Ava was utterly confused. How did I end up here, wherever here was. Now that her panic had subsided, her internal fortitude returned to her. It was time to get to the bottom of things.
Folding back the covers Ava was relieved to find she was still in her running clothes. What happened to me? she wondered.  She swiveled her legs over the edge of the bed noticing a nasty scrape and bruise on her right leg. She put her feet down on the bare wood floor. Its coolness sharply contrasted the soft, toasty cocoon of the bed. She stood up. “Ouch!”, Ava softly cried, holding her throbbing forehead on both sides with her hands.. She took a step. The floor creaked. She froze! Waited and listened hard. Nothing. Ava hobbled to the bedroom door and opened it.

She was wrong about the door. She stood staring into a closet, apparently a man’s closet. Shirts, just two colors, blue and white were neatly lined up in front of her. All blue to the left, white on the right. She lifted the sleeve of one of them to her face and breathed in. It smelled familiar, almost like Chris.

On the floor below them stood a well broken in pair of cowboy boots. Expensive ones, possibly custom made. Ava knew this because she lived in cowboy boots herself except when at work. Next to the boots were stacks and stacks of books. Anger flared up in Ava. Why would a person store their books on the floor of a closet? Her own reverence for books found this a sacrilege.

About to close the door Ava spotted something leaning against the inside of the closet wall. It was a leather jacket draped over something. Ava couldn’t resist. Curiosity got the best of her and she lifted coat. Underneath it she found an electric guitar.

Ava heard footsteps approaching from somewhere. She dropped the coat in haste, hurriedly closed the closet door and made a hobbling beeline for the bed making it under the covers right before someone knocked softly at the door.

“Hello?” came the firm but warm voice of a woman.