Virginia didn’t always take the long way home; or maybe she did.
She felt apathetic towards time. On her left, she passed by the bakery owned by a dear (as ancient as she was) sweet soul who lived but five houses down the narrow street from her. She watched the run-down, yet popular rustic building fade into the blackness of the evening as she continued her drive.
She was a darling old woman. Virginia would often stop by her equally ancient home and lounge in the parlor with a sweet cup of tea prepared with too much sugar. She would never complain though; she treated the taste with the same apathy as time.