Amber lettered the flap of the envelope with careful strokes. The blue ink shimmered on the smooth paper for a moment before drying dark and dull. Amber sighed and dropped the capped pen on the table. Nothing beautiful, shimmering, alive seemed to last long enough for her to even begin to understand its allure. Least of all Krystal.
She would’ve written to Krystal if she’d had any idea where to reach her by mail. Instead, Amber tried something she hadn’t since middle school -- penning a hokey, self-indulgent letter of poured out pain. How useless to document in retrospect all the warning signs she’d ignored along the way. Amber knew she was bound to repeat her mistakes regardless.
She couldn’t say she felt better after filling eight pages of stationery and cramming them into an envelope, but at least she was tired enough to fall asleep now. Good thing, too. It was after 2 AM at that point and Amber had the opening shift at the cafe in less than three hours.
Amber propped the letter against the bathroom mirror as she scrubbed her teeth with slow, circular stroked of her toothbrush. Would she burn it, release her feelings in a cloud of incense redolent with regret? Would she stuff it to the back of her closet and keep it, like a time capsule, for reflection at a brighter point in her future?
Amber spit, said goodnight to herself in the mirror, and climbed into bed with the hall light still on. The letter lay alone on the cold sink counter, the alternate universe Amber languishing just down the hall in the bathroom as Amber slept.
alchemicink you’re up!