Amanda had been out before—to a small grocer in the area, the Franklin Goodwill, and there had been trips to publishing houses for meetings, though she avoided that whenever possible. She hadn’t gone anywhere for more than a few minutes at a time.
After she hung up the phone, she felt a new resolve to implement her plan and began to get dressed. Starting with the long dark-auburn curls that cascaded down her back, she took a strand from each side and attached them at the nape of her neck with a small brown clip. She stared at her reflection for a moment in the mirror, tracing her jawline, the corner of her mouth, and her cheekbone. No visible scars, she thought. Her pale, Irish complexion was completely unblemished, as if nothing had ever happened. But it had happened, and she was a different person now. There's no escaping that.
After adding a bit of powder and some mascara, she went back into the bedroom and tried to shake off the melancholy that threatened to derail her plan. On the bed was a long teal-blue A-line skirt and a white linen blouse she’d laid out for the day. She stared at them for a few moments, debating her options. If she was staying in, the skirt wouldn't be conducive to drawing her knees into their usual crisscrossed position on the sofa to work. Final decision time. Stay or go? Move forward, or remain stuck, mired in fear and sorrow?
She took a deep breath, put on the skirt and blouse, some small hoop earrings, and dabbed on a bit of softly tinted lip balm. Then she removed the earrings. No need to draw attention.
Amanda stood at the open door and prayed for strength and resolve, then stepped outside. It was a beautiful spring day. The air was clear and sweet, filled with the scent of flowers and dew. She breathed deeply and walked to her car. Carry on, she said to herself, and put the car in drive.
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