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Clara wakes up to the sound of her alarm blaring an obnoxious beeping sound. Reaching for her phone, she turns it off and groans into her pillow. What day even is it? Tuesday? Thursday?

No, it's the weekend, she recalls. Clara specifically remembers editing articles late into the evening for the newspaper so that she could have the day off today. For some reason, though, she doesn't remember the drive home that well. Did she park her car on the street or in her small driveway?

Slowly rising from her bed, black spots dot her vision. With a parched throat and a throbbing head, she walks over to her bedroom window and pushes the tan curtain out of the way, looking outside. The sun shines in the cloudless sky, and her shiny blue Honda is neatly parked in her rectangular driveway, exactly where she always puts it.

Clara assumes that it must have been her who parked her car there. After all, who else knows that she always parks her car in perfect view from her bedroom window?

After making her bed, she walks into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Peering into mirror above the pink sink, Clara realizes that she must have had a restless night. Her brown hair is mangled, and dark smudges of gray eyeshadow outline her eyes. She finds is peculiar that she left her makeup on all night (keep in mind, this something that she never ever does) but knows that the damage is already done.

Clara scrubs her face and pops an Advil into her mouth before taking her necklace off and stepping into the hot shower. The back of her head is tender when she pokes at it, which makes her wonder what the heck she was doing in her sleep last night. She hopes that all of her worries chase the soap bubbles down the drain, but the holes in her memory are making her feel on-edge.

As soon as she steps out of the steamy shower, her cell phone begins to ring. Without even looking at the screen, she knows who it is. "Hi, babe," she says, putting her boyfriend on speaker phone as she dresses.

"Hey, just checking in on you. Why weren't you answering?"

Clara rolls her eyes. Yes, she received the dozens of text messages he sent her starting at 6 AM this morning. And no, she will not sacrifice her beauty sleep to answer her overly protective partner of only six months.

"Because I was sleeping, Austin, and today's my only day off this week."

"Okay, God, I'm so sorry that I was just trying to make sure you were safe." Sarcasm infects every inch of his voice.

"And in what way would I ever be in danger?" Sometimes, the only way to continue a conversation with Austin is to follow his lead.

That was the wrong question to ask, and Clara realized this a little too late. Hearing all the ways a person could injure or even kill her by her own lover was not the way she planned on starting her day.

"Are you done yet?" she asks, zipping up her jeans and eyeing the hairdryer.

"Fine," he snips, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry, baby, I just get worried about you."'

"You have no reason to be, but I do appreciate your concern. Now, I have to dry my hair, so I'll meet you later at your place?"

"Sounds like a date. See you soon."

"Love you," Clara says, hoping that today will be the day that he says it back.

"Alright, bye, baby."

The receiver clicks, and the phone lie goes dead. Defeated, Clara flicks on the hairdryer and lets her thoughts run rampant in her mind.

Austin can be a real sweetheart when he wants to be. Clara will never forget the time she first met him in freshman year of college. Their paths were never supposed to cross, but Clara decided to go on a jog during after her first day of classes to burn off some pent-up energy. With her thoughts wandering, she failed to weave around him and crashed right into him.

Clara will never forget the forgiving face he wore when she apologized to him. His hazel eyes looked at her with keenness and sincerity, but his small smile made her heart beat a million miles per hour. She ended up asking him to meet up later in the week at a local coffee shop, and the rest was history.

Soon enough, Austin asked her out on a date, and they shared their first kiss two weeks later. Throughout their four years of college, Clara attended every single one of his soccer games while he came to every single gathering and dance that Clara's clubs hosted. The two were inseparable, and many believed they would marry right out of college.

But that didn't exactly happen. After Austin failed to be recruited by a big league soccer club, he was forced to use the teaching degree he had no intentions of ever touching. Following Clara to Mount Vanston in a wake of defeat and sadness, failure shaped Austin into an angry person.

But Clara wasn't going to give up on him. She knows, even now, that he just needs time to heal and time to discover what his true calling is. Teaching elementary school kids how to play kickball and floor hockey makes him happy, but not ecstatic. Maybe coaching high school students will cheer him up a bit.

Clara picks up her sapphire necklace and rubs the jewel. Austin gave her this necklace as a token of love the day before he was supposed to be picked to play for FC Dallas. It was supposed to give him good luck, he said, but it didn't. Whenever Clara wears it around him, she always conceals it under her shirt. Sometimes when he sees it, he gets angry.

Sighing, Clara heads downstairs to eat breakfast. Maybe a bowl of cereal will help her forget about her boyfriend problems.

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