Lost in Transition

CHARLOTTE

I opened my eyes the next morning, a few minutes before the alarm went off and the memories of the previous night danced through my mind. I smiled wistfully, content with the decision I had made, but still feeling like I had lost something.

I tried to shake it off and focus on the fact that I had given myself quite the experience. I turned off the alarm and got out of bed. I looked around the hotel room and realized that I had forgotten to check for cameras or get an extra lock for the door.

“Need to make better decisions,” I muttered, eyeing the room’s disarray, a reflection of my current state of life.

It wasn’t terrible, but I had a flair for the dramatic. Clothes were strewn about, my notepad upside down—it all amplified my self-criticism. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t Milan; littering didn’t mean I was stressing the person cleaning up after me. This time, I had to take care of my mess. It felt good and terrifying at the same time.

I clicked my tongue against t