The creaking floorboards had quieted and she heard Mr. Scissorbill’s snoring through the ceiling. Assured the house had settled for the night, Lacy pulled down the covers and swiveled her feet to the floor. Tugging a small satchel out from under her pillow, she quietly unfastened it, thumbing through her supplies. Inside was a passport listing her at eighteen despite her gangling legs and young breasts, her best change of clothes, and a pair of cream heels stolen from the missus.
Resting beside her passport she found a fatly folded note. Lucy pulled it out and carefully pulled back the half-dozen uneven creases.
Sissy, I lov u. I hope u rembr me. I lov yu. – Isabell
Lucy drew in a hard breath and steadied her mousy shoulders. Carefully, she refolded the note along the same haphazard lines and slipped it back into her bag before pulling it over her shoulder, and tip-toed to the door. Before she pulled it shut, she caught Isabelle’s eyes glinting in the moonlight. Lucy smiled and blew her a kiss.
“Goodbye, sissy,” she said, catching the kiss and hiding it gently beneath her pillow.
Featured image by CM Friese (c) 2014