She was idly thumbing a page in her notebook while coffee shop sounds fueled her. The hushed conversations surrounded her like buzzing bees. The lull of the steam wands and burr mill calmed her. It was in these instances, writing and creating away her worries, where she felt most at home.

She was not ready to settle. She longed to roam outside her mind and see the world. There's a furnace of these flames burrowed inside her rib cage, channeling the little girl heart within her. And her yearns for the world to be held in her hand grow by the day. A state of mind at home was not enough. It was comfort and release, but it wasn't her freedom.

A roar bellowed somewhere outside, and her attention snapped to the window as she tapped the pen in her hand.
The unknown had beckoned her with its outside voice. As its call caught her ear, she longed to follow it while gripping her fingers on her notebook. Her heart swelled, and even though it frightened her not being able to see the source of the roar, she stood from the wooden seat and packed her things.

The thoughts of her moving forward excited her, and though she didn't know where she was going, she followed the voice. She knew it would fuel the burning within her, and only then would she feel free from ache.

She would create as she roamed, but she would no longer be idle; so she kept walking toward her freedom.