Kate Chopin's Short Story Of An Hour

She was walking across the boulevard.
It was the 1st of January – there was no one there. No one but her and her thoughts. She loved the simplicity of the moment; just an elusive pause to gather her thoughts. Maybe even to gather herself together. To stay strong in front of tomorrow. She looked towards the water. The chilling, winter wind was irritating dark, obedient sea. While admiring the waves, it felt almost as if the wind was blowing through her as well – as if it was washing away all the bad memories, all the horrible experiences she did come across. Her earphone bounced from her arm, stopping the flow of unpleasant thoughts. The music she was listening to was a source of a faint relaxation – some Chopin, nothing more. Nothing more,

That's the phrase that should be abundant in her dictionary: her very own. Her very own way to define her future, her very own way to define her tomorrow... She wrapped herself tighter with a scarf. Despite the winter clothing, she still felt as if she was freezing. Still, she kept on walking. In a way she didn't yet fully understand, it was her most freeing decision – to stay in the cold as she wished to, despite everyone around her. To fulfill her own desires. She took a clean, salty breath in her lungs. Just like that, a glimpse of happiness crossed her mind. She was free. For a brief moment, she could walk just the way she wants to, just the way she used to before. The idea of before was a troublesome subject. Her previous life wasn't particularly different; those were the similarities that made it hard to get up. As if nothing changed, as if no one noticed. Few late drinkers passed her by. She tensed automatically – she knew that there was nothing she could do about it. When will the fear finally diminish? In a year, maybe two? She was, she is worried, that the fear will stay with her forever. But it's the New Year. Quite mundane method to push forward. Mundane or not, it is worth a try. After all,