“No problem, but listen, I don’t mind doing the overgrowth for you, seriously.”
“No, it’s okay, really! It doesn’t bother me. I truly don’t mind.” He pauses before continuing with his food. “Well, I’ll stop by anyway and give you a hand,” he says. I shake my head at him, smiling. “You are my favourite friend. Did you know that?” I say, giving him a sarcastic smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I’m pretty sure I’m your only friend,” he laughs. “See you later, El,” he replies, smirking at me. I narrow my eyes at him, giving him my fake frown before calling,
“Bye, Sam.” I give him a small wave, then head out back to start my walk to the outer boundary.
I’m almost done clearing the overgrowth by the time the sun has made its way around me, warming the back of my neck.
The wheelbarrow is full, piled high with ivy leaves. Roots tangled together as if they’ve been holding on for years. My gloves are streaked dark with soil and green sap. I feel that familiar dull ache in my arms, the one that comes from doing a job properly instead of doing it in a rush.
I check my phone, noticing I’m half an hour over my finishing time. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. I set my phone down on the wall beside me, trying not to coat it in soil. Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, I stand up, shaking the soil from my knees.
Most of the ruins are clear now.
It’s older than I expected, pale stone beneath the ivy. I assume it was once an archway, half crumbled and incomplete now. Clumps of stones together, cracked and weathered. I run the blade of Sam’s knife along the last stubborn vine and feel it finally give. The tension snapping cleanly, I almost stumble back. Pulling the last vine away, I notice a section of the arch that feels different.
Not damaged or discoloured.
The opposite actually.
It’s completely whole, no chips or cracks.
A stark contrast to the other stones. It looks almost new compared to the rest.
Maybe someone restored it, but then why change just the middle stone?
Its surface is smoother and warmer beneath the sunlight. I hesitate, then pull one glove off, tucking it into my back pocket. I’m not sure why it’s caught my attention as much as it has, but I lean into my curiosity anyway.
The air stills around me, quiet in a way that is peaceful but sudden.
No bird songs.
No voices.
Lonely but freeing.
Just the soft sound of my breathing.
My palm finds the smooth surface of the stone. Warmth blooming on my hand immediately. Frowning, I shift my weight and lean closer to it, checking for looseness, but the stone doesn’t budge.
Something blue suddenly flutters past my shoulder. I turn my head just in time to see it settle on the top of the wall next to me, delicate wings catching the last of the sunlight.
A blue butterfly.
Its colour vivid against the pale stone, it opens and closes its wings as if to greet me. I smile despite myself.
“Hello,” I murmur, the words instinctive, pointless. I slowly raise my hand towards it, not entirely sure why.
The sunlight shifts just a fraction. Enough that the butterfly's wings cast a soft shadow across the stone beneath my hand.
Light spills out the sides of the stone, a soft, warm glow that creeps beneath my skin and up my wrist.
A vibration begins at my feet, and I gasp, curling my fingers and pulling away from the stone. But whatever is happening is now beyond my control.
My heart is thudding as I straighten and take a small step to steady myself, pressure building in my ears. I turn to step back, but the world seems to come apart beneath my feet, as though sudden frost has locked me in place.
The world doesn’t disappear.
