[ca never did have good handwriting.
her friend, long ago, had taught her cursive. but her cursive was clunky and strained...but her friend used to say that her handwriting had "character".
she thought her friend had character. she'd laughed and thanked her with a friendly shove, and asked ca to help her style her hair later. she'd been growing it out, and it grew slowly, but any femininity was good—
she'd gotten lost in the past again. drat.
she looks down at luki for a long time, almost thinking she should just go, without a word.
...but he doesn't deserve that.
she folds the letter neatly, setting it on his bedside table. it would surely be filled with flowers and cards soon, but hopefully, he wouldn't miss her letter.
she wishes she could go back to the house and get one of his spare beanies. he looks so strange without one.
she kisses his forehead and leaves the room.]