Blank

She looked around herself. Everything was blank. The wall at her back was blank, the carpet was blank, even the light streaming through the window seemed blank. A brown box sat in front of her; her laptop sat on top of the box. Notes squeezed themselves out of the speakers and into the blank air. A pillow and a couple of blankets heaped themselves in a corner.
Everything was new and different, here. This was her blank slate. The minute she stepped foot inside this room she wanted to bottle it up and send it home. She wanted to pluck bits and pieces of her surroundings and herself like flowers--and maybe he would put the bouquet on his table. Maybe he'd understand. She wanted so much for him to know. She wanted to share this.
She soaked everything up with wide eyes, open lungs, hungry stomach, and outstretched hands. That was the only way to face life, she figured. She tried to face this change with the mind of a child. She wished so badly that she could pull him out of her pocket, let him see through her eyes. Everything is better when shared.
She saw moments and building blocks. She saw growth and life. She saw love. She saw with love. She loved this place. She loved him.
She didn't understand the kind of restart this blankness would bring. She didn't realize that there was no way for him to understand. This was her time to breathe, her time to fill herself with everything she saw, heard, touched, and smelled.
She sits with her back to the same blank wall, and she looks across the same blank carpet, and the light through her window is still blank. The blankets in the corner are replaced with a bed and the box was emptied onto shelves. Sometimes the old desire to send back bits of herself still arises, and sometimes she breathes and sees as if for two. But she knows the reality is that this is all for her. He won't see it, hear it, touch it, smell it. She can't say that this is what she wanted. She can't say that this is where she thought she was going. But she can say that this is hers, and hers only. Some things must be left unshared.