Lost Letter

They said they were calling in an expert of some kind, something about this being our chance to move. I’ve barely known them for a month, I don’t know what about me makes them so willing to take what seems to be such a massive risk, but I’m certainly not complaining. When I asked, they first tried to demure, saying that I had grown into an important part of the family, but when I made it clear that I didn’t believe them, they changed their story to tell me that they had a personal connection of some sort with the person they plan to write to. I nearly asked if it was someone I may have heard of, but the expression on their face stopped me before I could. Never before have I seen such a breathtaking mix of wistful joy and carefully concealed worry. And then, the second they noticed me about to speak, a whisper of fear seemed to flit across their face. I shudder to think of what story they were reminded of, but all of that pales in the face of the glee I feel, knowing I will soon be out of this wretched place and that we can speak in person again, instead of through these flimsy letters.

Awaiting a day that seems to be coming sooner than expected,

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