Killing Samuel and Moving On

Letter One

Dear Quill,

Predators always know
how to pick and choose their victims.
I think it's something
that they can sense.
Maybe it's like a pheromone to them.
Some kind of sickly sweet perfume that they're drawn to.
Or maybe it's something
in their vision.
Something that allows them to look past the clothes and fake expressions to see the hidden truth.

Maybe it's all of the above.

I imagine what I must've looked like on that cold, rainy day.
And I laugh sometimes.
I was sheep walking into the
lion's den.
Not that I knew that.
No, I was just another bereaved kid
running away from reality.

I couldn't bring myself
to go to college.
Not so soon after Blake's death.
I couldn't live the life we'd planned
on living together in the dorm
that had both our names on the lease.
How could I find freedom in the wake of his death that made us all realize he had none?

Dove needed the distraction
to live again.
I needed to run away
to live again.

I imagine what I must've looked like on that cold, rainy day.
Hunkered down with one suitcase and Blake's old backpack.
My phone in my pocket with crumpled bills.
A debit card on a shared account with my dad; loaded with enough money to keep me fed and a roof over my head.

I didn't know that this little café was designed specifically for poets.
I didn't know that they were hiring when I walked in.
I didn't know that they made the best coffee on the block.
I didn't know that you were the owner.
I didn't know that Page was the best damn baker in the entire world.

I didn't know any of these things.

All I knew was emptiness and
coffee with flower petals.
Blueberry muffins and an offer to stay upstairs in the empty room
you kept open for new hires.

I'm Quill,
you had said.
Your hand was open and waiting.

I shook my shaggy hair and thought.
It almost touched my shoulders.
Straight and damp it hung.
So, so pretty.

Go,
Dove had urged me.
Go and be who you want to be.
I'll be here when you get back.

I remember gathering all my courage, and replying in what was a very masculine voice:

I'm Stella.

And you smiled.
My God, did you smile.

It's nice to meet you, Stella.

And that, Quill, is where everything began.

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