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Sleep was a fickle mistress. Sometimes Emma could lure it to her, others it would jump up at the most inconvenient of times. Tonight was neither of the two. Emma turned her pillows over and over again to try and get to a ‘cool side’ that didn’t exist.
Emma could barely get any sleep this summer, the looming departure date of the trip weighing heavy on her conscience. This was her first time out of the province, out of the *country*.
She took so much pride in keeping everything the same all the time. ‘New and exciting’ was Rikki’s thing, not hers.
*Oh, Rikki*
Emma could feel herself sinking deeper into her mattress. She craned her neck towards her nightstand, that crinkled letter tucked safely away in its drawer. Half of her wanted to let it disintegrate, never to see the light of day. The other half wanted Rikki to see it.
It was the least she could do. It’s not like Emma was going to get some sleep anyways.
She squinted her eyes to read the clock on her wall. 1:45? 1:47? Whatever. All of her best (and worst) decisions came to her in the middle of the night. No one would ever know she was gone.
Tucking the poor letter into her pajama pants pocket, Emma crept down the stairs and out the front door, closing it as softly as possible. Rikki’s place was only a fifteen minute walk if she hurried.
But she didn’t want to. This was her last night on the Gold Coast, after all. Emma stared up into the night sky as she walked. It was starless, like always, but above the clouds and the light pollution, Emma imagined all the wondrous constellations dancing and frolicking together. She imagined Rikki and herself stargazing on some distant hill, a checkered picnic blanket under them. She imagined Rikki leaning in to…
Emma ran into a bench, nearly tripping over it. Best to watch where she was going. After a couple more minutes of focusing on not running into more things, Emma reached Rikki’s trailer. She stared at it one last time, trying to remember the interior as best she could for when she came back. Emma slipped the letter into the mailbox and turned back.
*I have a cell phone.* Emma remembered after sneaking back in. *I could have just texted her this whole time!* She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed and defeated. She braced herself for a barrage of phone calls and text messages, or radio silence. Rikki always got a bit brood-y.
She curled back under her covers, hoping to savor an hour or two of sleep before the Gilberts had to board their flight.
Letters were more personal anyways.