The Maid Pt. 07

Why was he so hard to read. A brick wall that never seemed to crumble. All she wanted was a hint, a sign, anything.

She shook her head again. Take a breath. She resigned herself to the facts surrounding her. Even if there had been more she wanted, not that she was thinking she did of course, right? Or was it just that she wouldn't let herself admit it, even inside her own head, it was only answers she searched for? No. This didn't matter. It wasn't sensible. She may as well have been a land-bound horse wanting to be kissed by a seagull. Physically possible maybe, but the chances so improbable you're best to give up on them altogether. Put them out of your head, she told herself again.

Then she arrived home to find another box waiting for her. It was too soon, she thought, her head spinning again. She tried to keep herself steady, but her body seemed to have a visceral response. She waited awhile before opening it, but finally she allowed herself to tug on the ribbon that now gracefully skimmed the surface of her bedroom table.

A note lay under the ribbon. The firm parchment was ever crisp, always spelling out terms that were his and his alone. The white paper was as opaque as the man who'd written on it. Those well-formed letters never yielded, but as she opened it she realized on some minuscule level, his words, just perhaps, sometimes could.

For you. -N

Missy's eyebrows raised slightly. She opened the lid and something inside her softened, her face slowly spreading into a smoother expression, a small smile forming itself across her lips. She didn't know what it meant, perhaps it was too much, overdone even, but she laid her thoughts down and let her mouth curve up.

Later that night as she slept the box laid open on the table across the room. Inside, nestled in black velvet sat a pair of blindingly bright earrings. White pearls.