𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Sea To Sky

It took six seconds to tear the seal off the standard paper envelope, and only two to open the letter. Five seconds to digest every infliction of black ink, and no more than ten for my brain to catch up with my eyes

It only took twenty three seconds to fall, all over again.

My eyes glazed over as they scanned the parchment, once over, then again, and again until it began making sense. I brought a hand to cover my mouth, hold in a sob. I was shaking, I could feel it.

The room suddenly felt cold despite all the windows being shut tight. I seemed to have drained of color as well. The vibrant green walls now the dull shade of a winter field, the saturated floral curtains having turned to blotchy, flat, traces of once lively flowers.

I was shocked back into the knowledge that this wasn't where I belonged. It came crashing down on me like rolling hills, land bound waves of confession and admittance. I was glued to that piece of paper, and nothing could have torn me away from it in that moment.

It meant everything thing to me.

I reached back into the envelope and pulled out the rest of it's contents. They felt like gold in my hands, heavy, priceless. I shuffled through the documents with haste, desperate to understand it all. How had he done this?

It was all there, everything I never could have asked for, everything I thought was impossible. He'd gone and done it all, for me.

I picked it all up, gathered every piece of paper in my arms as quickly as I could. It didn't matter what order they were in, that could be sorted out later. I just needed to go, as fast as I possibly could.

I slid the documents back into the envelope and made sure it was closed before reaching for my boots. I don't think I'd ever managed to lace them up as quickly as I had that night, not even on mornings when I had accidentally slept in, or that day, when he had asked me the question.

There was no time to fiddle about with all the separate garments of daily wear, so I threw a cloak over my shoulders, tying it tightly around my neck and using it to conceal my nightdress.

I tucked the envelope into my cloak, under my arm as my eyes lingered in the stack of letters I had left beside a half eaten jam tart. The room fell silent, suddenly still after a tempest of rushing to leave.

I grabbed it on my way out. I had been fortunate enough to receive his letter, and I thought that whoever Emma Gilford was, she deserved it too. But everything else, everything I had taken with me, I left in that room.

Things, objects, could be collected later. I knew he was waiting for me, that he had been waiting for me from the moment he had sent that letter. I couldn't make him wait any longer.

Neither of us were masters of time, having wasted so much of it for so long. We were indirect, subtle and vague. He had left, I'd gotten engaged, and once that had ended, we rested in limbo for half a year, only for me to leave this time.

My boots treaded the hall to the ticking of a clock, descended the stairs to passing seconds, lost time. Ms Darby was still sat in her rocking chair as I reached the ground floor, sleeping peacefully.

I put the letters down on the table beside her, with the small note I had written on top. I had every hope that she'd be able to find the person they were meant for.

I also decided to write one more, placing it on the table as well. It read; 'You were right, there is a boy.'

When I left It was pouring with rain, the skies hailing down as if the ocean itself were falling. I cursed my cloak for not having a hood, but spent no time hesitating on where I should go.