Here's some more:

Tara walked into the kitchen and picked up the battered coffee pot. It was half-full of lukewarm liquid, so she poured herself a cup. Adding half an inch of cream, she stepped into the living room. Her grandmother sat in an old rocking chair pulled close to the fire. The chair squeaked every time she moved, but that didn't seem to bother her. Tara came and stood next to her, sipping the tepid brew.
"Well, honey, did you find what you're looking for?" Grandma Thoreau asked quietly.
"What do you mean?" Tara asked.
"You're looking for something, dear, or else you wouldn'a come."
"No, I'm not looking for something. I'm trying to escape it."
"What? Heartbreak?" Grandma Thoreau laughed softly. "Honey, you can't escape heartbreak. No matter how far you run, you'll always carry it with you. You know why? Because it's somethin' inside you. It's not something you can take off like a shirt. Before you can escape it, you've gotta change inside."
"How does that work?"
"I don't know how to explain it, because it's a subtle change. It's not something you just go out and do. It takes time and maybe a little more heartbreak before the pain goes away."
Grandma Thoreau closed her eyes and sat back. The rocking chair creaked on, leaving Tara wrapped in her own thoughts.

That's all for now.