96 Rhys
96
Rhys
The new owners got the package while they were moving in. They didn’t know anyone named Ginger Davies, but they unwrapped it anyway, cut the ribbons, tore the tape, opened the box. After looking at the gift with a shrug, they gave it to their little daughter, but she was grown up now and wouldn’t miss it.
When I got the parcel from Axel, I waited a while before opening it. My head hurt. The day before, I found myself standing between two cars and vomiting, right there in the street, with Alec laughing beside me. We were both high on the same shit. A few hours later, I still hadn’t slept, my whole body ached, and I couldn’t get the bitter taste of cocaine off my tongue.
I hated opening the thing when I felt so out of it, but I did.
It was another book. Peter Pan. Illustrated, the edges of the pages gold, hardcover. I could feel the ink of the letters when I ran my hand over the cover. I did this a few times, then opened it, and froze when I recognized her handwriting.
For the boy who doesn’t need wings to fly to the moon.
I slammed it shut and poured myself a drink.