Closing the door to the outside world, Christian noticed the letter placed neatly on the open pages of his journal. Approaching cautiously, he affixed his gaze on the all-to-familiar landscape of his writing table which was now being consumed by shadows generated from the late afternoon sun. Quickly taking in every detail, he knew in his heart that all was precisely as he had left it before his trip to London. Everything except, of course, for the letter.
Removing his topcoat, Christian gently slid his worn wooden chair into place like he had done a thousand times before. But this afternoon was going to be different. And even before opening the letter, he knew it.
Softly running his fingers across the scarlet seal, he raised the letter to his chest. Fearing the loss of the only thing he had ever held dear, Christian prepared himself to receive confirmation of what he had most certainly let slip from his embrace.
Leave a note.