All she could think about while sitting in the counseling office was that she could not wait to get out of there. She was already dreading having to come back next week.
Coen hated sitting in that ugly, dark green leather couch with the blue and yellow striped pillows that felt like sand paper.
She also hated the way Katie, her counselor, just sat there with her legs crossed, hands folded on top of her notepad, staring at Coen, waiting for her to say something, anything.
Thinking maybe today she would break through to her.
Little did Coen know, this was going to be the last time she sat in that faux leather couch, holding a sandpaper pillow to her chest until the hour long appointment was over.
This was the last time she would stare out that 6x4 foot window, looking at the surrounding buildings.
Watching people mill about, wandering in and out of the frozen yogurt shop, Froyo-to-Go, and the new movie rental place down the block.
This was the last time she would get interrupted in the middle of daydreaming by the little alarm clock sitting on the mahogany desk in the corner of Katie's office,
signaling that the hour was up and that it was time to leave this place for the last time. But she didn't know that.
Coen also didn't know that this would be the last time she would walk her usual route home, going down North Street and turning left on Victor Boulevard.
Stopping in front of her favorite cafe, Evally's, that sells the best chocolate croissants she has ever tasted in her 22 years of living in this world.
Coen looked into the cafe,
lit only by the warm glow of the lights hanging by the display case filled with so many delectable treats that she felt like she was gaining weight just looking at them.
She yearned for one of those buttery, flaky, oh so delicious croissants that are, amazingly, only $2.50, which seems impossible since you are basically taking a bite out of heaven.
But she knew she couldn't because her fiancée Matt is cooking dinner at home, so she cannot spoil her appetite.
So instead, she thinks about how she will get one on her way to work tomorrow, only little does she know, she won't.
She also won't get to go to her little brothers recital on Friday night like she promised him she would.
And she won't get to see the sequel to her favorite movie or get to hear her favorite song again.
Coen also won't get to have another girls night with her best friends Layla and Brooklyn, who she's known since grade school.
They shared all of their secrets with each other , went to concerts together and comforted one another when one of them broke up with their boyfriend, thinking it was the end of the world,
only to find another cute looking guy two weeks later.
She has no idea that she will never get to see another sun set over the horizon behind her house, or that she will never get to fall asleep in Matt's arms after a long day at work.
Coen will never get to see her little brother, Sam, or her mother and father again. Never get the chance to hug and kiss them goodbye, one last time.
She will never wake up to the smell of fresh brewing coffee in the mornings or to her puppy, Lucy, snoring on the floor next to her bed.
She will also never listen to the morning traffic on her walk to work everyday.
As Coen starts to step off of the sidewalk, and onto the street, she gets a call from Sam. When she answers the call, he immediately asks her if she is still going to his school recital.
"Of course I am, Sam! I wouldn't miss it for the world. I have to go right now though, I'm headed home. I'll see you Friday. I love you."
But Coen will never make it to Sam's recital.
She will never do or see, touch, smell or taste anything ever again, because as she hangs up her phone and starts to cross the street, the last thing she see's are headlights.
The last thing she hears is tires screeching, glass shattering, and a horn honking as all her bones snap with a crunch. The last thing she smells is burning rubber and smoke.
And the last thing she feels as her head smashes against the asphalt with a satisfying smack, is every bone in her body shattering, glass falling against her delicate skin and blood.
Warm and sticky, but also silky blood, slowly seeping out of all her now open veins, pooling around her body, already becoming pale and cold.
Coen's last thoughts, moments and memories are now coming to an end. She had never imagined it ending this way, on a cold November night.
She had, at one point, wanted everything to end, but not like this, not now. But it was too late. She had finally gotten what she had once, so desperately wanted.
Maybe next time, she'll be more careful what she asks for.