Wednesday, February 8th, Afternoon
Hoisting the box onto the coffee table, Ginny sat down cross-legged on the couch and pulled the table and the box closer to her.
She had spent the day going through the last few boxes that were left unpacked and had been otherwise shoved into closets and under her bed before the party. It was just random things really. Knick-knacks, paperwork, old design sketches. In short, the last thing you wanted to spend a lovely afternoon going through. But it had been put off long enough already.
Sighing, Ginny pulled open the flaps of the box and reached inside.
Playbills from Paris - Merlin, that was a bad show. Toss them... Oh, there's the salt shaker. The pepper has missed you... Letters? Why didn't I send these?
Untying the simple black string that held the dozen or so folded pieces of parchment together, she opened up the first letter and read it.
Oh - that's why.
After putting the box on the floor, she slowly read each one before lining them up on the table in front of her. Once they'd all been read, she leaned back into the couch and looked at them - an odd sort of chronology of her time in Paris.
I should just get rid of them. It's done, over. We're back together. Things are good. I should. Burn them or toss them. Really, I should.
But, she couldn't.
Instead, she walked over to her desk, pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill and wrote a quick note.
I know you're probably busy, but could you come by my flat some time today? There's no need to hurry. I'll be home all day. Just come in when you get here.
Walking out to the balcony, she took Picasso out of his cage, offered him the note, and told him who to deliver it to. She bit her bottom lip as she watched the bird fly off on the direction of the Apothecary.
What am I doing?