@gemmasundara​

It was the music that drew her in these doors. A passerby had entered first and she’d heard the vocals drift out onto the street. Well, she was set on exploring, and what better to discover than some music? What she found upon entering, however, wasn’t a lively band and a joyful crowd. No, these were simply customers wandering as the music emitted from, well, the ceiling. Not satisfied by that discovery, Caoimhe had frowned, but there had been more to explore. Aisles and aisles of things, like the markets and stores they’d traveled to from their glen in Ireland. Larger, though, and cold, and with so many new items to take note of. The world in the last few days has seemed almost completely composed of new things – how shocking, then, to round a corner and almost run smack into someone strikingly familiar. “Oh!” Caoimhe halts quickly, fumbling with the bottle in her hands thanks to the sudden movement and the sheer surprise. It’s set aside, and Caoimhe blinks a few times as if clearing her vision. “Gemma – it’s really you?” Of course, she’d focused mainly on her suffering husband over these whirlwind, distant years. But she had seen glimpses of her old friend, now and then. Still, though, this comes as a shock. “I’d no idea you were here – I’ve only just arrived, myself, I...” There’s so much to say, to explain, to ask about. But a few things seem more important than most, and an anxious hand runs down her scarred throat before Caoimhe settles into them. “Gemma, I’m so sorry. If I’d known how to reach out to you, I would have. We didn’t mean to leave you the way we did, love.” We – herself, Faolan, and of course, the children, whose images in her mind still ache. “How are you? Alright, I hope?”