GUN IN MY HAND

CHAPTER 75: DAY OR NIGHT?

'Listen to your heart when he's calling for you

Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do

I don't know where you're going and I don't know why

But listen to your heart'

Sunset, the fleeting instant where the brightness of the day and the darkness of night met, and it was almost unbelievable how it resulted in a fierce red.

Well, it was a physical phenomenon, depending on the wavelengths of colors and the distance of the sun from the earth.

However, through the majestic pine tree silhouettes, from the turret window of the cabin, there was something more mystical about it, and I could feel a spark of magic in the play of shadows and lights all around.

I could have stayed forever watching it. But the night would fall in a matter of seconds. The colors were already changing when footsteps interrupted my contemplation, and my gaze lingered just a little bit more on the landscape to commit every shade to memory, as I recognized the steady pace on the creaking floor and inside my ribcage before even hearing the familiar voice.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Um, I just went to grab a sweater for tomorrow in the laundry room..." And I'd got sidetracked, though that, I didn't have to add because it was already evident in Spencer's knowing smile as I turned to him.

"You know we're coming back, right DD? It's just a 24-hour trip for now."

"I know," I sighed, throwing one last glance through the window to see the sun setting lower and lower before following Spencer down the hallway. "But I feel like I have to savor it because everything will go fast after. It's like... the beginning of the end."

The beginning of the end, it was this nostalgia lingering in the air and making each movement, each heartbeat more important, this prickle of tension with everything that was coming, and the restlessness of too many emotions. I could have thought it was only in my chest, as every item on our way stood exactly the same: the wooden calendar, the locked front door, the striped beige walls, the desk, the brown armchair, the fireplace, and the coffee table. Yet on there, instead of the usual newspapers, were overnight bags.

The beginning of the end, it was everywhere, until even Spencer's shrug as he tried to sound playful.

"It isn't sure yet. We don't even know if the article will work. Maybe we won't leave this place..."

The beginning of the end, yes, but would it be a happy or tragic one?

There was something more hovering in the air: the uncertainty of it all, and it was impossible to ignore, whether it was in the wavers of his voice or in the bag, where I shoved the dark sweater next to water bottles, tissues, Daisy's home-made snacks, and an unmistakable cold handle that sent a shiver down my guts.

Though that, it was just in case. We had other weapons, and I quickly zipped the bag closed, not letting Spencer see the gun as I focused on his brown eyes.

"It's sure that your article is amazing, and I know it will be a success, so we'll get to leave soon."

For the rest, I wasn't as confident. But I had no doubt in his talents, and I watched, amused, as the compliment trailed up his neck in a rosy shade and relaxed his features from his smile to the crease smoothing between his eyebrows. Well, what I could glimpse as he humbly looked down, shaking his head and probably thinking that I was 'biased'. He didn't even have to say it, as I knew him as well as he knew me.