School has been over for the day for some time, and the room is really too dark and too cold for what Gilbert is doing, which is (theoretically) marking compositions, though he hasn't written anything for almost an hour, and which is (in reality) avoiding having to walk through the schoolhouse door for as long as possible.

They've been home again for almost twenty-four hours now, long enough for it to sink in that nothing has changed, that Avonlea is just as they left it, blue hall and all, but not so long that there's not a wonder moment at seeing places that are both terribly familiar and new again all at once ( Read more... )

To Whomever Has Been Concerned Enough To Ask About Me:

I have gone home to Avonlea. I do not know if I'll be back. Thank you, however, for your inquiry.

Gilbert Blythe

Gil steps out of his room, brushes dirt that doesn't exist off his jacket, and starts to cross the hall to Anne's room.

Gil is in his room, sitting at his desk, book open in front of him, notes in the margins and scrawled across the top sheet of the neat stack of paper next to the book, but he's staring out the window, a little lost in thought.

Test test test!