Mia never imagined it would end this way, that one drop of rain would transform itself into an inescapable flood that took hostage over her entire existence. The ordinarily sunny L.A. sky hadn’t cried a single raindrop in weeks, but it seemed as if the clouds were at war in one raucous, booming battle that drowned the streets in murky water. Inside Mia’s fragile glass cube, however, none of this mattered. Mia stared out the windows like a child admiring winter’s first snowfall, perfectly shielded from the madness of it all. The parched trees surrounding her were undoubtedly grateful for this sudden downpour, and Mia smiled as the sun-baked vegetation became overjoyed with hydration. 

Sinking into her same nightly routine, she headed to the kitchen and filled up a tea kettle with tap water, then twisted her hand counterclockwise to start up the stove. Click, click, click. Mia heard the flames light up, the sudden whoosh brightening her face for a moment in time. She always found comfort in having time to think to herself silently, but there was something stuck on her mind like chewing gum glued to the bottom of someone’s shoes. 

Keys jingle-jangled outside the front door. Mia knew who it was without having to think, as she’d only been expecting her husband to come home for the past three hours. The fragile glass cube shook when Richard twisted the front door handle and wound himself inside. Whistling to himself, he walked closer to the kitchen with his sopping wet shoes still on. Mia watched as his eyes began drifting closer to the liquor cabinet like a moth moving towards an open flame. 

Almost immediately, Mia’s nose picked up a sweet, floral aroma that seemed vaguely familiar. The same scent burned through her nostrils each night Richard went out on his twice-weekly business dinners, souring her stomach and giving her headaches that pierced sharper than glass. As time went on, Mia knew that one thing was unmistakably clear: Richard reeked of infidelity.

“Richard, is that you?” Mia asked in a hushed tone, the tea kettle faintly whistling in the background. She already knew the answer but wanted to test Richard’s consciousness. 

“I didn’t expect you to be awake. Don’t scare me like that,” Richard said assertively, his head bobbing from side to side in a drunken, cloudy haze.

“I couldn’t sleep because I was worried. Worried nonstop about you.”

“Well that’s very nice of you, isn’t it? Very, very, very nice.”

“Listen to me, Richard. I just feel like you’re not being honest with me. I feel like you’re hiding something that shouldn’t be hidden any longer,” Mia said as her hands began to shake. Richard’s behavior changed a few months back when the doctors told Mia her body was incapable of bearing a child. Disillusionment filled her mind as Richard transformed from being kind and faithful to menacing and impatient. From that moment on, Mia constantly felt attacked for something completely out of her control, and Richard hadn’t said “I love you” in ages. If society’s image of a perfect American life could no longer be achieved with Mia in tow, then Richard thought he simply had to find someone new. 

“It’s not like I’m keeping any secrets from you, Mia. I wouldn’t do that,” Richard said. 

“Then why do you smell like that?”
“Smell like what?”
“Why do you smell like another woman’s perfume? Why do you smell like you’re not telling me the full truth?”

“Are you seriously accusing me of lying to you right now? I would never lie to anyone, and you know that.”

“Richard, I’m not accusing you of anything because I know there’s someone else. I can smell it on your skin right now.”

His eyes twisting in circles, Richard reached for a whisky glass on a high-up shelf. Before Mia could blink, Richard had already dropped the glass to the ground, shattering it into a million microscopic pieces. Like crushed up diamonds, Mia thought how the fragments looked back at her and glistened under the pale kitchen lights—crushed but still shining. Nothing stood between her and Richard but the broken glass and the whistling tea kettle, now crying a relentless, infinite scream. It beckoned for attention. Slowly but surely, the hot steam managed to flee the kettle, and Mia wished she could be so lucky to have such freedom.

Though Mia married her husband out of love, all Richard saw out of Mia was a potential child-bearing device. The glitz, glamor, and countless champagne-filled parties undoubtedly blurred her understanding of Richard’s intentions, but everything was made clear when he found someone new to prey on. What did this grandiose life even mean if Mia didn’t feel loved? Every bone in her body ached to be recognized as something more than a broken tool.

Completely unaffected by the shattered glass and screeching tea kettle, Richard made his way upstairs to their bedroom, willfully leaving Mia with the mess he’d created. The behavior seemed familiar. 

“Richard, are you there?” Mia called to him using her loudest voice that she hadn’t used in what felt like years. “Richard…Richard?”

It was far too late to settle this chaos now, Mia thought. Tomorrow would be a new day where she could sweep up the broken glass, where the sun would dry up any rain, and where Mia would be expected to fulfill her role as a typical housewife serving her husband’s every need. Absolutely nothing would change, and that was certain. 

But Mia heard no response aside from the pattering rain as it moved down the windows. She contemplated what to do next until her mind became so overwhelmed that she couldn’t see clearly. Mia’s heart called her to do something quickly, and this strange voice was one that she’d come to know so well after countless nights of misery. She thought back to Richard’s frustration when he found out he wouldn’t become a father. The look on his face felt threatening, and Mia remembered how his eyes appeared crimson red with rage. Her sorrow couldn’t persist any longer.

And so, Mia rustled through her left pocket and found a pack of cigarettes, some loose coins from who knows what, and a pack of matches that beguiled her to look closer. She took out a matchstick, stared at its shape for an instant in time, and rubbed it against the rough-as-sandpaper ignitor to generate some heat. The faint orange glow illuminated her skin and grew warmer as it moved down the matchstick, not intensifying until Mia dropped it on a curtain in her living room. 

Mia knew with certainty that this decision was no mistake or uncalculated accident, for Richard had a price to pay. Divorce might seem fair, yes, but setting flames to Richard’s fabricated life would surely give him a vile taste of his own medicine. Without warning, the satin material whooshed up and succumbed to the fire, the blaze spreading larger as each second ticked by. The movement felt right.

Before the flames could spread another inch, all Mia could think to do was run. She ran so fast that her mind couldn’t be bothered with thinking, and Mia refused to let anything stop her from breaking free. She didn’t bother going upstairs to take one last look at Richard before she left, but the possibility of never seeing her husband again didn’t affect her in the slightest. The fragile glass cube eventually had to shatter. Mia’s skin burned hot with rage, and raindrops instantly ricocheted off her face as they caressed her temples. 

As she continued her sprint towards an unknown finish line, the storm began to ease its tension and find a much calmer rhythm. Like a sign telling her to keep moving, the sky unexpectedly became clear of any clouds, letting the half-crescent moon guide her to a new future. It was most certainly a sign from God, a sign that she never experienced yet felt so compelled to follow. 

Mia had to get far away from the scene of the madness, but her feet could only travel so long before giving out. Even her desire to start a new life and leave Richard with the mess she’d created was not enough motivation to keep her body in motion, and the thought dawned on her that someone would find her before she reached seclusion.

Gazing in the distance, the glow of a parked vehicle caught Mia’s attention. The cherry red pickup truck—a freshly-polished 1949 Ford F-Series—could be an open ticket to freedom, or so she thought. She headed closer and pulled herself into the cargo bed of the truck. Though it took every ounce of strength to grapple over the edge, Mia's adrenaline was still at full force. She found a safe place to settle down for the time being, comforted by the everlasting sound of cicadas chirping in the distance. The truck’s hard surface felt significantly more comfortable than any moment spent with Richard. Her shape was hard to discern under the moonlight, but true freedom had not yet been secured.

Footsteps tip-tapped closer to the vehicle, and Mia laid paralzyed against the cargo bed in absolute fear. A man walked by with a jangling key ring in hand, a similar sound that Mia heard each night when Richard arrived home. The driver climbed into his seat, revved up the engine, and drove off into the night sky. Shockingly, everything seemed to be working out in Mia’s favor for the first time in her life. Her eyes became fixated on the constellations she once wished upon as a child, and the open road seemed so unfamiliar yet so entrancing. 

Without a clue where she was headed, Mia felt at ease letting everything go. Mexico, Oregon, Colorado—it didn’t matter. Anywhere would be more appealing than having to remain complacent for a second longer, and she felt increasingly satisfied as the cherry red truck traveled forward. Self-autonomy smelled sweet, and Mia knew she could get used to the taste of being in control. 

Just as Mia felt an urge to doze off underneath the starlit California sky, the truck slowed down until reaching a complete stop. Only an hour or so had passed, she thought, for the painted moon looked identical and the streets were silent. 

As if a lightning bolt struck her with a new surge of energy, Mia slipped out of the trunk and tiptoed away from her temporary shelter. She walked closer to the sound of diamond waves crashing against the shore, as if a voice was calling her to find solace on the empty beach. This first glimpse of independence felt promising. 

Mia rushed closer to the untouched sand and ran into the salt-filled water with her clothes still on, finally letting go of life at the fragile glass cube. The ocean’s chill rejuvenated her body and made her feel like a kid at last. Carefree and fearless, she bobbed up and down to the rhythm of the diamond waves, her silhouette unrecognizable under the moon’s careful glow. 

What a joy it was to feel freedom. What a joy it was to be free.