𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒

𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝑻𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌.

• ❧ •

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

If it weren't for coffee, I would've probably been dragging myself through the airport floor—or worse, not being able to stand from my airplane seat. Believe me, a ten hour flight is not for the weak.

Luckily, there was no more London for me and I was finally standing firmly on Seattle territory. I was tired, a total mess, with eyebags darker than my coffee, but I was standing. That had to count for something. For an International Airport, it was quite empty at 4am, and as someone desperate to hop on a bed and sleep twelve hours straight, I was grateful for it.

Tossing what I think was my fourth cup of coffee in a nearby trash bin, I grabbed my luggage and sent my best friend a quick text. I had mastered the art of texting with one hand years ago, so I did that while I dragged myself and my luggage to the exits.

Soon enough as I reached the exits, I spotted a familiar mess of half-black, half-white hair tied into a bun and the silhouette of a really short woman racing toward me. That was all I was able to see before she tackled me into a hug, the both of us stumbling back against a column.

I let out a quiet groan between laughs after she squeezed my ribs a little too hard. "Hello to you too, Annie,"

"Ow, bitch, my earring is stuck to your sweater," was the first thing she said to me. I couldn't help but shake my head and free her earring from my wool sweater. Once she was free, she then shrieked with excitement as she examined me completely. "My, my, what the hell did those bri'ish folk do to you?" She said with an exaggerated British accent that sounded more Australian than anything.

I couldn't help but laugh as she spun me around, her fingers twirling around the strands of my long hair, eyes taking note of the few extra inches of height, and the redness of my cheeks. Of course, she also noticed how worn down and exhausted I looked. Me, self conscious? Absolutely. Did I care at the moment? Negative.

"One, that is the worst British accent I've heard in my life." I said, pushing one of my bags into Anastasia's arms and watching her roll her sharp blue eyes. "Two, they did nothing to me. Blame it on the years. I'm getting old."

That earned me a sharp swat on the arm.

"Old my ass. But don't worry, I'll let you off the hook for now and will interrogate you at home first thing after you wake up. You look like you'll pass out any moment now." Anastasia shrugged nonchalantly, dragging me toward her SUV.

She helped me load my luggage in the trunk and once we were both inside, she turned to me and smiled. "I missed you, Mara," she said softly, reaching across the center console to take my hand.

"I missed you too, Annie," I replied, giving her hand a sharp squeeze.

But of course, since the world is cruel, our little moment was interrupted by the car behind us honking. Anastasia's smile vanished as quickly as one would blink and she honked back before putting the SUV in drive.

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes to see if I could rest a little before we got to her house.

It felt nice to be back—I mean, up to now, it was nice. After spending five years in London working as an elementary art teacher and a part-time painter on the side, I felt ready to come back to America. To my past.