#books1

The marshmallows were a big hit apparently. Their reserves running rapidly low and they needed a filler up. Arthur walked up the reasonably proportioned set of stairs up into the Big House and made his way into the pantry for his super secret stash. He was hoping that he’d be able to share them with his new Angles as a peace offering after they made it up the Stairs of Doom, but he’ll think of something else to give them. Maybe some nuts. 

With a big helping of marshmallow packets in his arms, Arthur half-circled toward the exist before he stopped at Books’ door. Over the fire, he heard one of the counsellors---Maverick, a technopath---updated the cable in her room. It was definitely worth checking out. Arthur knocked. 

“Books? You in?“ No answer. Last he saw, she was at the bonfire but he had to make sure. “I’m gonna open the door, okay? Don’t be in there.”

Empty. Arthur fumbled straight for the remote on her bedside table and slid onto the hardwood floor in front of her bed. He switched it on and passed through every single channel until the screen flipped onto an MLB game. Two fists punched the air. He might’ve shed a tear if he didn’t need his eyes to watch the pitch.

By the fourth innings, Arthur had forgotten all about the party and his fingers were covered over with marshmallow powder. He didn’t hear the footsteps coming from the living room, and didn’t notice someone was inside the Big House until they opened the bedroom door.

Arthur turned and stopped mid-chew. “Hi...? Can I help you?“

I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for. You were meant to read these words.

(a compilation of short paragraphs, poems, and photography about love and loss and new beginnings)