2. Elsie
Two
Elsie
Tonight, I take my time walking home.
There's no rush.
No late-night conference call waiting for me.
No phone vibrating every three minutes with another email marked “urgent.”
No airport to sprint through because my connecting flight has already started boarding.
No man in my apartment waiting with a kiss and a promise to love me forever.
Not anymore.
Not ever on that last one.
Nope.
It’s just me.
The woods.
And a quiet little life I'm still learning to believe belongs to me.
The gravel path crunches beneath my sandals as I leave Main Street behind, and almost immediately the sounds of Barvale begin to fade.
Car doors become crickets.
Conversations become rustling leaves.
The air changes, too.
It smells greener here.
Earthy.
Pine needles baking in the warmth of the day.
Wild mint somewhere nearby.
The sweet perfume of summer blossoms drifting lazily on the breeze.
I close my eyes for one heartbeat and simply breathe.
God.
This?
This is why I moved here.
Five years ago, I would've been answering emails while speed-walking through an airport terminal, praying my coffee didn't spill on my laptop.
Now, I'm stopping to admire wildflowers.
I smile to myself.
Growth comes in funny forms.
The narrow trail curves gently beneath the trees, moonlight spilling through the branches overhead in silver ribbons.
Tonight, the full moon hangs low and enormous above the forest canopy.
It's surrounded by the prettiest golden-orange halo.
Almost...
Magical.
I laugh quietly.
“There you go again.”
Talking to the moon.
Thirty-four years old and still romanticizing the universe.
My mother would roll her eyes.
My old coworkers would've called me na?ve.
Maybe I am.
Maybe I should know better by now.
Maybe after enough bad dates...
Enough almost relationships...
Enough men telling me how “great” I was before choosing someone thinner, younger, or easier...
Maybe I should've stopped believing in fairy tales.
Instead, I quit my job and opened an occult bookstore.
Go figure.
I shake my head, smiling.
“I really am ridiculous.”
But I'd rather be ridiculous than become one of the women I used to work beside.
Women who'd stopped dreaming years before retirement.
Who measured their lives in quarterly reports and PTO requests.
Who talked about vacations they'd never actually take.
Who sighed every Monday morning like happiness was something that happened to other people.
That terrified me.
Not getting older.
Getting hard.
Growing cold.
I was afraid of settling for a life I didn’t want. Forgetting how to hope.
Forty isn't nearly as far away as it used to seem.
Some mornings I notice the tiny lines beginning around my eyes.
Some days I wonder if my person is still out there.
If maybe I somehow missed him while I was stuck in conference rooms and airport security lines.
But then, I think about Moon & Mug.
About Mrs. Donnelly's smile.
About Maya’s fresh flowers every Monday.
About the little girl who hugged me this afternoon because I'd found the exact fantasy novel she'd been looking for.
Maybe life isn't running behind schedule.
Maybe it's finally right on time.
A breeze stirs through the trees, catching the hem of my long cotton dress and swirling it gently around my calves.
The fabric brushes against my skin, cool and soft after the warmth of the day.
I hug my short-sleeved cardigan a little tighter around myself and keep walking.
A patch of wildflowers catches my eye.
Tiny white blossoms mixed with purple ones I don't know the names of.
Moonlight kisses their petals until they almost glow.
“Oh...”
I crouch beside them, smiling.
“You're beautiful.”
I wonder if anyone else stops to notice them.
Probably not.
I make a mental note to come back tomorrow with my camera.
The thought makes me unexpectedly happy.
Little moments.
Little joys.
That's what I'm collecting these days.
Not promotions.
Not bonuses.
Just moments of my life—mine. And added up, they matter. In the end? Those tiny moments might be the only thing that does matter.
A twig snaps somewhere deeper in the woods.
I freeze.
Slowly, I straighten.
Another rustle.
Leaves shifting.
Branches brushing together.
Something is definitely moving out there.
“Oh.”
I swallow.
“It's fine.”
Probably.
I mean, this is the woods.
Things live in woods.
That's kind of the whole point. Right?
I glance toward the darker stretch of trees.
Nothing.
Just shadows.
“It's probably a deer.”
Or a rabbit.
Or something bigger. With sharper teeth.
Gulp.
Please let it be a rabbit.
I start walking again.
Just a little faster.
Not running.
Running feels like admitting I'm scared.
And I'm absolutely not scared.
Nope.
Not one bit.
Besides...
Wildlife encounters are probably like bee encounters.
Don't bother them...
They won't bother you.
Right? Isn’t that how this works?
I mean, I think so.
Hopefully.
Another rustle.
It is much closer this time.
I stop again.
The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
My pulse begins to thump in my ears.
“Hello?”
Immediately I cringe.
Good job, Elsie.
If it was a serial killer, now he knows you're polite.
The forest answers only with silence.
Then I hear it.
A low growl rolls through the trees.
Deep.
Powerful.
Close enough that I feel it more than hear it.
Every muscle in my body locks.
“Oh, shit.”
Something tells me that isn’t a deer.
And any magic I'd been hoping to find tonight?
I don’t think it’s waiting beyond those trees.
I need to get home. Like now.