Tina felt the warmth of her palm against her head as she paused, mentally checking off her to do list before she climbed into bed.

She let her fingers caress the side of her face unconsciously and linger on her poised lips. Between having a child, a house party and organising oneself to bed tired after a full day; the simplest of agenda’s became a complex process to contemplate.

She heard Bette closing up in the Kitchen as the cupboards closed on clean cutlery and another day. Ticking off clean teeth in her mind she began to smooth her nightwear, hips down to mid thigh. Quietly closing the space to the sanctity of the bed, she stopped at the nightstand and opened the draw to reach for her hairbrush, but her reach was halted by the edges of a note pushed forward by a busy draw.

Her curiosity conquered her fatigue, intrigue propelling her hand. As she gently pulled it forth, she knew at once the origin.

Standing in the soft light, the slight chill of the paper now in her palm, she gave in to the pull of the duvet. Nestling down, she reached back and bent the reading lamp to conspiratorially bow over her shoulder. She unfurled her length into the soft seductive warm of their bed.

Luxuriating in unfurling the letter so precisely folded, she traced the slight tilt of the handwriting with her index finger empathetically. How can words so richly touch us from the past? They are surely only but froth from the ocean of life, yet their resonance is undeniable, their weight so touchingly current, they can slice through time. She wondered as she began to read, why, when such sentiments once communicated sear themselves into our soul, that curiosity would once again steal her to reread it with such renewed expectation.

“Dear Tina,

The moon is a perfect segment of orange tonight as I fly home. I look across the wing and the night is punctured by its perfection, and I am so keenly aware of you as I watch it sail by.

I have never felt the emptiness of night so visually before. Maybe it’s sailing above the clouds with such freedom tonight that demonstrates for me how it closes my heart rather than opening it. I can’t get comfortable with you not knowing the details of my life, and although I keep informed about most of yours where I can, the detail I know is never communicated into my ear. Loving you, being with you never felt limiting, the opposite was always true. In the great expanse up here, I feel bound.