If not… I would really appreciate hearing from you.
I read it three times.
It sounds too formal. Too cautious. Too much like I’m bracing for rejection before it even happens.
I almost delete it.
Almost.
Then I hit send.
The message disappears, replaced by the quiet, terrible certainty that I can’t take it back.
I set the phone down and immediately feel hollow.
The market hums around me, oblivious.
A dog barks somewhere. A fiddle starts up again near the far end of the square. Someone laughs, loud and unrestrained.
I watch the littleSentlabel under the message like it might change if I stare hard enough.
It doesn’t.
Minutes pass.
Nothing.
My chest sinks slowly, a stone settling into mud.
Of course she doesn’t reply right away. People are busy. People don’t owe you immediate answers to life-altering questions.
I know that. But it doesn’t help.
My thoughts tangle into each other, messy and loud.
Wyatt’s careful voice.
Jesse’s smile.
Marshall’s intense presence.
My grandmother’s journal.
The letters.
The fire.
The bees.
Now this.
It’s too much.
It feels like my life has turned into one of those tables at the market after a sudden gust of wind. Everything is still technically there, but not quite where it belongs anymore.
I exhale slowly, pressing my palm flat against the wood of my stall, grounding myself in the familiar texture.
“Focus,” I murmur under my breath. “One thing at a time.”
