She held the letter in her hand.
How did he know?
She looked around her; at a room that seemed to belong to someone else. Objects collected by another her, in another time, crowded each surface. Meant to bring comfort, but instead bringing only a sense of disconnection.
She must put it to one side, forget, pretend the letter had never arrived. Let this day pass as it was meant to.
He shouldn’t be here.
She stood and walked to the window. Below her the city spread out; beautiful, uniform, fierce. She knew that today was pivotal, a moment of potential, of possibility; that action now would bring change.
She reread the letter. Memories, long held within, resurfaced, threatening to drown her.
I must be strong.
She looked out over the city again, crowds were gathering. Expectation hung heavy in the air. She could not fail them.
But, the letter! How could she leave, knowing that he had returned? That she wasn’t alone; that she was leaving something behind after all?
It is too late.
The city needed this, without her they would not survive the coming storm. Her surrender, her sacrifice, would blunt the rage.
It was her duty. She walked to door and nodded to the attendants. The letter dropped to the floor.
It is time.
You can find this weeks #ThePrompt linky here. I do hope this week’s prompt inspired you; I look forward to reading your posts.