No Line On The Horizon

Copyrighted by @Surfkai (Kaila Hardisty)

Prologue:

I re-read over my previous sentence as my soft-tip pen continues to glaze over my parasol paper in swift motions. The cool autumn breeze flushes through the air, slightly pushing the window open more so the cool air hits my bare skin sending shivers down my back.

I reach over my wooden, Dutch desk to my "I ❤ New York" mug and bring the warm drink to my lips. Taking a gulf and letting the bitter taste of the raw tea glide down my throat and instantly warm my body.

I stand up out of my previous state, leaning in my wooden chair, letting the wooded legs scrape against the light colored maple planks below. I strut over to my window sill and push it closed and locking it, blocking the cold air and wind from re-entering the flat.

I swiftly walk back to my desk and plop down onto the wooden chair, letting the aged material squeak from my weight. I pick up my previous pen and make a few more swift motions as I quickly sign the bottom in my neat signature. I fold the aged, off-white parasol paper several times and slip it into the familiar skinny, snow colored envelope. I lick the edge of the flap, and seal it shut my pushing the red, circled wax shape onto the tip.

I reach down in, one of the many, drawers in my desk and pull out a small, rectangle stamp with the Eiffel Tower on it. I peel the covering and stick it on the top right corner on the envelope. I grip the edge of the letter and place mine on the other, all familiar, neatly stacked envelops in the brown cardboard box written by my fellow classmates.

I get out of my chair and plop down on my soft and squishy bed. I turn my head to the right to look at my mini grandfather clock resting on my wall.

12:30 AM

I sigh in frustration and let sleep over power me.