"Always."
"Do you know what happens? After?"
My lips curved in a sad smile, and I shook my head. "I'm sorry, child. That's one question even I don't know the answer to."
She chuckled, then broke into a coughing fit. "I'm not a child anymore."
"You'll always be my child, my sweet Agnes," I said, and she smiled, her eyes fluttering shut as she exhaled, and her hand slowly went limp in mine,
"Goodbye," I whispered, hoping the other side would be kind to her. I fell forward, resting my head on the bed, her bony hip against my head as my tears soaked into the sheets, my insides twisting and aching as I felt her disappear, go wherever people went after they left this world.
Even after all these centuries, I hadn't gotten used to losing people. I hadn't grown numb, hadn't accepted that it was a part of life. I couldn't.
Every person I ever loved was unique, and so every loss hurt in different ways too.
****
I woke with talons digging into my cheek, and I hissed, pushing Nugget away as I sat up. The remnants of my dream still clung to me, and I could almost feel Agnes's cold, wrinkled hand in mine. I rubbed it over Nugget's feathers to get rid of the sensation, and cleared my throat to get rid of the lump in my throat.
Nugget chirped, and I patted her back before moving her off me so I could get up. "I know it's late, but I went to bed late, remember?"
It'd taken me a while to get the bar cleaned up and closed last night, and I'd come home somewhere around three in the morning. After the previous sleepless night, I'd succumbed toslumber the moment I hit the mattress, so of course I'd forgotten to set the alarm.
Thankfully, I had a horde of fur children to wake me up on time.
I made my way to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine, then started plating food for the cats and dogs. I took the bunnies' favorite veggies to their cage, then sprinkled the hens' feed onto their feeding mat. I'd learned quite early they preferred to search for their food than eating from a bowl or plate, and so that was how I fed them.
Once I'd had some coffee, I took the dogs for a walk, pausing when I reached the Sanctuary. A neon-pink sticky note half-hidden behind a panel of the boarded up windows caught my eye, and I grinned when I saw the words written on it in a messy scrawl.
See you tonight.
He'd gotten my letter, then. Why he hadn't texted me, I didn't know, but I liked the little note much better. While Muffin and Clip sniffed at a bush, I crossed the street and hurried up the stairs to grab the note, then returned to them before they could take off.
I ran my thumb over the three words, then slid the note into my pocket. Though it was simple paper, it felt almost warm in my pocket. Alive with possibilities.
