The last drop of black coffee fell into the pot of her coffee machine. She took it, impatiently poured the coffee into her cup. Then she returned to her desk, her hands shaking but now both wrapped around the warm cup with the picture of a little kitten on it.
It was dark outside. Cold. The wind was rustling the few leaves that still remained on the shadowy trees. She closed her eyes and pictured the cold on her skin, and the wet smell she loved about autumn. Rotting leaves, earth and wood. Frail white traces of frost on the ground in the earliest hours of morning.
She shivered and took a sip of coffee. It would warm her up from the inside, although she knew only too well that the cold she felt was a different one and no coffee, no blanket and no fire would be able to push it away.
Her gaze drifted across the wall in front of her, covered as it was with sticky-notes, hand-drawn pictures, photographs, maps and pages torn out of several books. A wall filled with thoughts and chaos. Her r