The End of Wythwood Boulevard

Part XXIV - Coming To An End

25th August, 1830.

Golden light flowed through the curtains, bathing the kitchen in flowy rays of sunlight. Elsie stood leaned over the counter, shaping a loaf of dough that would eventually be baked later that night.

Hearing the loud thumping of footsteps behind her, she turned to look over her shoulder with a warm smile. Lenore had stumbled out of the bedroom and over to where Elsie stood, draping herself over the shorter woman's shoulders in a bone-crushing hug.

"Good morning, Mrs. Whittock," Lenore laughed into the crook of her shoulder. She peered over to see what her beloved was currently doing, eyes lighting up when she saw the lob of dough on the counter. "Sourdough?" Lenore questioned with a wide smile.

"You'll have to wait to find out," Elsie laughed, "It'll still take a few hours." She yawned, clearly she had been at this forever. "I've already made.. something else. Though I've forgotten what it was." Elsie continued to shape her mass of dough, struggling a bit to keep it from moving back into the cursed shape of a paint splatter.

The house was warm, the heat from the summer reaching an all time high, and the added rising temperature from the oven wasn't helping much. Elsie didn't mind, though. In her opinion, everything was perfect.

Lenore's work - under an alias, of course - was beginning to garner some well deserved attention in the galleries she had sold it to, earning them quite a livable sum of money. Someday, her wife would be known as a well respected artist - Elsie knew.

Unfortunately, Simon had threatened to duel both Elsie and Lenore over his beloved cat, so they had to make do without having Lady Whittock in the house - instead, they had adopted a kitten Lenore yanked off the street and immediately dubbed the scrappy little cat 'Garbage Monster'. The tiny tabby was curled up on an armchair now, purring away.

"D'you think we should bring some of this to Simon?" Elsie asked, gesturing towards whatever kind of bread she'd made earlier that morning, "Or should we let him starve again." Simon really hadn't been the best at buying his own food as of late, so the two Whittock girls had been taking it upon themselves to feed him.

"I think that would be lovely," Lenore said, taking a sizable piece of Elsie's dough to taste, "Sourdough, I knew it!" Elsie laughed, shaking her head. "Eating that is going to make you sick, you know." She scolded her wife as she turned to the oven, finally deeming her mass of dough to be ready for baking.

She slid the pan into the oven and soon wandered over to the couch, dragging Lenore along with her. They both dropped onto the cushions in a messy heap of laughs and warm smiles.

"It's hard to believe," Elsie breathed out, settling with her arms wrapped around Lenore's middle, "that all of this has really happened." Lenore petted her hands through Elsie's hair with a quiet, but happy, sigh. "It almost doesn't feel real yet, you know?" Elsie continued.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments, save for the purring of Garbage Monster, before Lenore finally spoke up. "I think it's perfect, don't you?" she had asked, continuing to card her paint-stained hands through her wife's hair.

"I do. I never imagined, when I walked through that bookstore door, that I would end up living with you, of all people. That we'd have our own little house, at the end of Wythwood Boulevard."

Elsie smiled into the crook of Lenore's torso once more - she was full of smiles, these days - and closed her eyes. This was perfect, truly, and Elsie Whittock couldn't wait to live the rest of her days with Lenore beside her.