She sits on the vinyl UFO stool, casually twisting back and forth, with her too-long legs swaying below the foot rest.
Before her, a plate of what appears to be some type of chocolate mousse, and a ceramic mug of coffee. On the stool next to her rests a backpacker’s pack – a long journey of a pack, meant for treks into the wilderness, into the great beyond, into the starry night skies of worlds unseen.
She’s alone, a traveler, but she seems to be fine with this. Content. Giddy almost. With the to and fro of her legs revealing this particular bit about her. The coffee mug at her lips is still. She contemplates its warmth. Her breath exaggerating the steam that tenderly licks her face.