After the Storm

03. The pink letter

Goal: 85 likes and 95 comments
*Casually lowers previous goal because I can't reach it*

Did you know: The toothbrush as we know it today was not invented until 1938. However, early forms of the toothbrush have been in existence since 3000 BC such as a "chew stick," which were rubbed against the teeth.

Conniption: An informal term for a fit of rage or hysterics.

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"Wake up sleepy head!"

I cracked open my tired eyes to see Ella grinning over me. How were some people so cheerful in the morning while I felt like a grumpy sloth?

"It's already eight thirty." She chided laughingly.

Crap! I jumped up from bed in a flash. "It's eight thirty?"

She nodded.

"Oh blast, blast, blast!" I cursed and ran to the toilet, slamming the door behind me. Work started at nine!

"What's the hurry?" Ella asked quizzically. "Wait!" Her voice rose in pitch. "Are you going out to meet your lover?"

"N-Yes!"

I heard a squeal from outside the cubicle. It sounded suspiciously like she was dancing around the room.

"Have fun!" Ella trilled at me when I reemerged from the powder room in a record timing of two minutes.

I asked, unable to stop myself from smiling at her antics, "Why are you so happy?" She stopped hopping around and blushed.

"I just feel happy for you. I mean, with you being in love and all."

I snorted, "What's so good about being in love?" From what I could see, those suffering from the horrible disease I named, amouressness disorder, were overly sappy and had an affiliation with Shakespearan language. My sister and Edmund were one such example.

She sighed. "Oh Lil, love is amazing. It makes you feel all warm and happy inside! Not that I've experienced it before...but you know." Her cheeks turned even pinker if that were possible.

"But it can also give you terrible heartache." I reminded her factually.

"Yes, true," She said carefully, "But I find it worth it."

From the way she spoke about love, I could see how much it meant to her and the significant place her lover held in her heart. It looked bitter sweet.

The dreamy smile on her lips vanished and her eyes widened. "Oh Lill! You should get going. Don't be late for your tryst!"

She tried to shove me out of the door.

"No, no!" I hissed. "I can't let Aunt see me go."

She didn't even question me when I ran helter skelter to the window and swung myself out, balancing precariously on the ledge.

"If Aunt asks where I went, tell her I'm going to the park to hunt down eligible bachelors!" That was an unbelievable lie that even a new born baby wouldn't believe. But it would suffice when the recipient, my Aunt, wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Sure." Ella did a twirl. "Tell me how it goes with your lover!"

I climbed down the ladder, rolling my eyes so hard that I almost fell off and made Lilly pancake on the ground. Lover indeed. Pah! 'Slave driver' sounded more appropriate.

As I changed in the shed, I recalled the previous night's events and cringed. What had gotten into me? Crying over a man, or two? That was unheard of in Lilly Linton's books!