She wanted to sleep in a comfortable bed in a dark room with the perfect blend of silence and white noise. She wanted to wake up feeling well-rested, to drink a delicious cup of coffee, and to get dressed for the day in clothes that had hung neatly the night before inside a closet, rather than digging them from her over-packed duffel bag and giving them the sniff test before heading out. She wanted a relaxed, leisurely journey to work and a sleep schedule that worked with her body rather than against it.
And so, like that, she had traded in her short-term contracts and travel-centric lifestyle for longer commitments. No longer was she adjusting to a new time zone every few days; now, she was staying put long enough to recognize faces at the coffee shop and sometimes, even, to have her coffee order remembered before she could place it.
This lifestyle had suited Celia so well that it was rare that she entertained a fantasy of staying put. Of putting down roots altogether and trading in her suitcase for a bookcase or some other piece of furniture. Sure, there were moments when she missed her family and friends back in St. Louis, but those usually abated with a visit back for a holiday—or at least for her quarterly check-in.