#PennedPossibilities 275 — If your MC could convey one last message to someone they have lost or left behind, what would it be? The Letter
Midnight sat at the table at the back of the jazz club, listening to the clarinet solo on the stage. You couldn't smoke inside, but the space still smelled faintly of smoke and... gardenia perfume today, for some reason. Cait handed her an Aperol Spritz in a martini glass and said, "Twenty minutes until your set."
The dark-skinned woman nodded, but as she put down the stemware with the icy orange liquid, she found a letter on the table. It was sealed with red wax. She put the drink aside and flipped the parchment-like envelope. The only writing was a faint image of a full moon almost completely obscured by a black cloud. The edges of the envelope were burnt. Recently. It was the smoke she smelled.
She blinked at it and stiffened.
The symbol /meant/ something. She just didn't remember why. Like how she woke on a sidewalk a decade and a half ago, with a broken skull and no memories, but knew things. This letter was for her.
She broke the seal and took out a thick card. The calligraphic letters weren't English. Crescents and blots that swamed in her vision until they aligned into words. She put down the card, gulped the champagne cocktail, then with a few breaths looked at it again. Her thoughts of the songs she would sing tonight vanished. Why was this here? Now that she'd found a life singing, and had met a man she could spend time with? She had no need of old memories that had refused to come, no matter what the therapy.
She pushed the card across the table to the candle flickering in the red jar. It read:
/I was told to write it, to get it out of me, so I humored the silly little dragon. I don't remember your face anymore, and I avoid your records because it's too painful to have lost you. Nothing went right after your disappearance. I later ran away from home, which made it worse. Nevertheless, at this point in my life, I can say I've done well. I've saved lives, I won a championship as a prizefighter, I've protected a city, and am making an alliance that may prevent a war. Through marriage. I don't believe I'm going through with— You might be a grandmother soon, were you here. I don't know where you are but, if this letter somehow gets to you, I hope it can bring you peace. I want you to know that the daughter you left behind has done well for herself. Maybe you can be proud of that. With love, Aurora./
The woman knocked over her her empty glass. The ice scattered on the tile floor. She knew that name. "Aurora." She remembered...
Cait, standing by the bar, looked as Midnight shot to her feet and said, "I'm going out for a cigarette."
"But you don't smoke—"
"I'm going to start!" she cried, rushing out, forgetting her purse but remembering... Other things.
