A letter to Derek
Please respect the fourth wall. Unless you've stolen the note, you can't know what Jun's writing.
The gods' wicked breath was stirring the soup fed by the near constant, warm rains. Taiphun season was upon them. Business was slacking as people couldn't afford to leave their homes unattended. Jun was doing a brisk business in lottery tickets, and take-away noodle-bowls but she was hurting. That was the nature of the rainy fall.
Yet, there was much boring work to be done. There were leaks to attend to in the storeroom. Supplies to moved out of the way. Foodstuffs to be purchased and collected, advertisements to be distributed and tracked.
The J stayed open as late as it could be managed. After which, Ainur brought Jun a written report. The bar receipts were off. Ainur had been furious, nearly weeping with rage. She'd shown it to Jun with deep apologies. Jun and Ainur had stayed up late in the night, trying to figure out which of the bartenders was cheating the J.
When Jun went upstairs, she stopped to check on Kian. Afterwards, she pulled out a bit of stationary and began to write a letter to Derek.
My beloved Anthony,
Thank you for being my very good friend.
I love what we do together. I'm grateful that I can count on you to look out for us. I'm so glad that I trust you and that you trust me. I believe in your goodness and kindness. I'm glad that you don't ask me to be anyone but who I am. I hope I do the same for you. I want to do the same for you, my sweet husband.
She rolled up the note and tied it up with a length of cooking string. Then she went to bed.
She had trouble sleeping, when the time was right for that. Eventually, she went into the nexus and ran into several oddly personal posts. She found herself answering Mr. Wilson's question regarding favored sexual positions and pornographic terms. It got her thinking about her history. Of Ken-who-was-away. Of Ken-who-had-come-home-to-her, of Joe and of Choji and the others that had gone on with their lives just as surely as she had gone on with hers.
She sat near the window while the rain spattered and hissed against the glass. A broken light flickered and hissed in the distance. A wicker laundry basket piled with damp clothes sat beside her.
She unrolled the note she'd written earlier and added, I love our sex. You're so sweet to me. You excite and comfort me. You make me laugh and sob when we're together. Every moment is too long and not long enough. I'm so glad you're mine.
She rolled up the note and lay it aside. There was a break in the rain. She went to put some clothes up on the line. Hopefully the weather would hold.
The gods' wicked breath was stirring the soup fed by the near constant, warm rains. Taiphun season was upon them. Business was slacking as people couldn't afford to leave their homes unattended. Jun was doing a brisk business in lottery tickets, and take-away noodle-bowls but she was hurting. That was the nature of the rainy fall.
Yet, there was much boring work to be done. There were leaks to attend to in the storeroom. Supplies to moved out of the way. Foodstuffs to be purchased and collected, advertisements to be distributed and tracked.
The J stayed open as late as it could be managed. After which, Ainur brought Jun a written report. The bar receipts were off. Ainur had been furious, nearly weeping with rage. She'd shown it to Jun with deep apologies. Jun and Ainur had stayed up late in the night, trying to figure out which of the bartenders was cheating the J.
When Jun went upstairs, she stopped to check on Kian. Afterwards, she pulled out a bit of stationary and began to write a letter to Derek.
My beloved Anthony,
Thank you for being my very good friend.
I love what we do together. I'm grateful that I can count on you to look out for us. I'm so glad that I trust you and that you trust me. I believe in your goodness and kindness. I'm glad that you don't ask me to be anyone but who I am. I hope I do the same for you. I want to do the same for you, my sweet husband.
She rolled up the note and tied it up with a length of cooking string. Then she went to bed.
She had trouble sleeping, when the time was right for that. Eventually, she went into the nexus and ran into several oddly personal posts. She found herself answering Mr. Wilson's question regarding favored sexual positions and pornographic terms. It got her thinking about her history. Of Ken-who-was-away. Of Ken-who-had-come-home-to-her, of Joe and of Choji and the others that had gone on with their lives just as surely as she had gone on with hers.
She sat near the window while the rain spattered and hissed against the glass. A broken light flickered and hissed in the distance. A wicker laundry basket piled with damp clothes sat beside her.
She unrolled the note she'd written earlier and added, I love our sex. You're so sweet to me. You excite and comfort me. You make me laugh and sob when we're together. Every moment is too long and not long enough. I'm so glad you're mine.
She rolled up the note and lay it aside. There was a break in the rain. She went to put some clothes up on the line. Hopefully the weather would hold.