#diose2

Letters have always been quite the struggle for Aven to get through, but this particular one was hard to read for a variety of reasons.  After all, it wasn’t everyday that an avox directly walks up towards you—delivering a heartfelt, handwritten message from someone who had only ever spread half truths about you.

The words are all she can think about, as the red numbers overhead count down: 5, 4, 3, 2.  They are several years too late, but even so, they are the words that she has always wished to hear.  And yet now that she has it in her hands, she doesn’t quite know what to do; instead of the closure she longs for, what she feels is curiosity.  Why?  Why now?

So here Aven stands, before a door that yet another avox has guided her towards.  She knows it’s late, but she just can’t go another night without doing anything.  In one fist is the letter, crumpled; the other one lifts to knock once.  “Hello?”  An awkward clearing of the throat.  “Diose, it’s me.  I got your letter.”